The Temple Of Le Fay
by Majick
Summary: Lucius Malfoy jailed, the Dementors gone, but Harry's summer is spoilt when a forgotten prophecy reveals Voldemort's plan to find the tomb of Morgan Le Fay and steal her power. Harry must now race to discover The Temple Of Le Fay : Complete!
1. Prologue

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Author's note: This is the sequel to my fifth year Harry story, The Dementors' Kiss. I strongly recommend you read that first before beginning this story.

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Prologue

It was dreadful. Excruciating. One of the worst moments of Harry Potter's entire life, which was saying rather a lot. He was pinned helplessly where he sat, unable to move more than a few inches without one or the other of his captors turning and leering at him with huge, evil grins. Harry knew that they were enjoying every second of his discomfort, and that Ginny Weasley would be suffering too. But he knew that Ginny and him just had to stick it out. Besides, things weren't quite as bad as he'd feared.

Mr Weasley hadn't asked about his prospects yet. 

Mrs Weasley hadn't made any remarks about weddings.

It was just that Ginny's brothers seemed to be taking up the role of surrogate parents with far too much gusto. They were peppering him with questions from every angle, even Ron Weasley, who knew nearly as much about Harry as Harry knew about himself. And the six of them were enjoying every last second. Even stable, straight-as-a-ruler Percy had joined in on the teasing for once.

"Harry, if you please," Bill choked out, tears streaming down his face. "Tell me, what exactly was it that attracted you to our baby sister?"

"Do tell us, Harry," Percy added. "After all, we only have our sister's best interests at heart."

"Of course," Fred Weasley interjected, delighted to be able to wind Harry up after having to suffer in near silence whilst at school. "We wouldn't want her to be going around with any unsuitable types, after all."

Harry groaned. Would the whole summer be like this? He looked across the table at Ginny and Ron. Ginny seemed to be trying to disappear under the table, while Ron was grinning a touch maliciously. Harry brightened somewhat when he realised that Hermione would be coming to the Burrow in a few weeks. At least then the burden would be shared out a little.

*

Eloise Midgen ran, her breath coming in short gasps. Her leg ached, slashed by a jagged shard of glass from her smashed window. She tried to ignore the blossoming pain that coursed through her body with every step she took. Chancing a glance behind her, she shivered, choking out a sob as she saw the Dark Mark hanging over her home.

"Mum. . . Dad. . . Nicky. . ." she sobbed. Then her breath caught in her throat as someone came out of her front door. The man looked round him, and then spotted her. Eloise turned to run, steeling herself for the impact of a curse between her shoulder blades.

She took half a step, before hitting something solid in her path. She staggered backwards, and then threw herself to the ground as a deep voice roared "_Stupefy!_"

There was a moment of silence, and then strong hands gripped Eloise around the arms, hauling her easily upright. She screamed, and kicked out, her foot hitting something solid and wooden, sending another jolt of pain along her already damaged leg.

"Easy now, girl," said the man holding her. "Calm down. I'm here to help. I'm an Auror. Took out that piece of scum, didn't I?"

Eloise stopped struggling long enough to look back over her shoulder. She saw the man lying on his back in the middle of the road. Turning back, she looked up at the man holding her.

"Professor Moody?" she asked, bewildered.

"Aye, lass. Moody's the name. Not that I was ever your Professor, but that's neither here nor there. No, what's important is that we got to you."

"But, Mum. . . Dad. . . My brother. . ." Eloise tailed off.

"I think we were in time," Moody said shortly. He looked up, over Eloise's shoulder, and nodded. 

"Dedalus? What happened inside?" he asked.

"Yes, we got them all," another man replied. Moody released Eloise, and she turned to face the second speaker. He was a short, balding man with a face that looked like he laughed a lot. As he spoke, he took a collapsible top hat from inside his cloak, banged it against his arm to extend it, and placed it upon his head.

"All of them?" Moody asked. "One of them got out," he said pointing toward the man that he had stunned.

"Yes, he got the jump on Raymond, but the others are inside."

"And the family?" Moody growled. Dedalus smiled.

"All safe and well, although Mrs Midgen is somewhat hysterical," he replied.

"They're okay?" Eloise asked, sniffing.

"Yes, lass," Dedalus said, smiling even wider. "A bit shaken up, but then this sort of thing'll do that to a person. No permanent damage, though. I understand that your brother is starting Hogwarts this year? Well, he'll have a story to tell and no mistake."

"Now then. . ." Moody said. "Best to get you back inside, yes? _Coagulus_," he said, pointing his wand at Eloise's leg. She looked down, and watched the blood trickling down her shin slow, and scab over. "It'll hold until we get you a decent medi-wizard," Moody said. "Useful field spell, that one. You might remember it, Miss Midgen."

"Never a wrong time for learning something new, eh Moody?" Dedalus said cheerily. "Ah, they're bringing out the prisoners."

Several sullen faced men were being taken from Eloise's home as they approached. She looked up, watching the Dark Mark shimmer in the night air, and shuddered. Looking down, she saw one of the attackers eyeing her contemptuously. 

"Filthy Mudblood," he snarled. Moody growled at him, but the young man glared defiance.

"No, you won't silence me old man. We may have been taken, but a dozen will rise to take our place. The Dark Lord has risen, greater and more terrible than ever before, and he will save us from your prisons." He glared at Eloise. "And I personally will make sure you pay, Mudblood."

He spat at Eloise, but a nearby wizard waved his wand, and the spit vanished in a puff of mist. Dedalus ushered Eloise past the prisoners, who were being unmasked by the other Aurors.

"Don't recognise even one of them," Moody snarled. "Didn't even have the Mark on their arms. Not even real Death Eaters."

"Times have changed since last we fought together, Alastor," Dedalus said. He sighed. "We have grown old. Voldemort for these youngsters isn't as terrifying a prospect as we may have wished to believe."

"Ye're only as old as the filth ye're putting behind bars, Dedalus," Moody said matter-of-factly. "And not a man jack of them was over thirty. They were school children last time around. I thought Dumbledore taught 'em better than that."

"Evil ever tempts, my friend," Dedalus said as they walked through the front door. "Now, Eloise, I think you can go and be with your family again."

Eloise limped into the kitchen, where other members of Moody and Dedalus' team were tending to her family. Her parents enfolded her in a warm embrace, and for a second, Eloise felt safe. Then she remembered the snarling face of the young man who had cursed at her, and tried to spit in her face. She looked around her home, which bore the evidence of the wild curses and jinxes used by the attackers, and her thoughts lingered on the wild face, and she shuddered. 

Would she ever feel truly safe again? As she buried her face in her father's shoulder, she thought of her school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and thought of how that must surely be the safest place to be. In a little over a month, she would return there, and Nicky too.

She looked around the kitchen again, and screwed up her face to try and head off the onslaught of tears she could feel welling up. She couldn't wait to go back.

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The story begins. . . 


	2. Chapter One: Happy Birthday, Harry

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Author's note: Harry never seems to have a happy birthday in canon, so I've given him one here. The story really begins in chapter two, but in the meantime, I hope that you enjoy a Weasley-style birthday party.

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Chapter One: Happy Birthday, Harry

Harry Potter yanked the TrueSight glass from his eye, unable to truly believe what he'd just seen. He tried to force himself to think of something else, but nothing would come to his mind. 

"Harry? Harry what's up?" Ron asked, dropping his book and running to his friend. "Is it your scar?"

"Ohhh. . ." Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes. "In the orchard," he said, handing the TrueSight Glass to Ron. Ron raised the glass to his own eye, focussed on the orchard, and winced. Lowering the glass, he shrugged.

"Well, they are going out," he said. "What were you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was looking for Ginny."

"She's helping mum with the cooking for tonight."

"Oh. Er. . ." Harry looked toward the orchard. Ron followed his gaze, and shuddered.

"Let's just not mention it, okay?"

"Mention what?" came a voice from behind them. Harry and Ron spun around, Ron hiding the TrueSight Glass behind his back as he turned. Hermione stood before them, a quizzical expression on her face as she looked from one to the other.

"Nothing," Ron said. "Nothing important. Nothing at all."

Harry shook his head. Hermione would see right through Ron's protestations. Right about now, he thought, they needed a distraction.

This was provided with timely accuracy by twin _cracks _as Fred and George Apparated beside the three friends. The twins grinned, their arms full of bottles, packages and packets. Ron jumped forward to help his brothers with their burden, cleverly hiding the TrueSight Glass under the packages he took from them.

"Right, we've got everything ready," Fred said. "Now, where are the rest of the guests. Anyone here yet?"

"Er, yeah. Lee and Katie arrived a half-hour or so ago," Harry said. 

"Yeah," Ron added, suddenly grinning. "They went for a walk up to the orchard. Lee said he wanted to stretch his legs after coming all that way by car."

George shook his head. "Katie has to learn how to Apparate," he said. Grinning at Fred, he added, "Want to go see them?"

"Yeah, good idea," his twin replied. "Here you go Harry," he added, foisting his load into Harry's arms. "Hermione, can you take George's lot?"

Once unburdened, the twins gave a short wave and vanished with another crack.

"What d'you reckon. . . A minute?" Ron asked, as the three of them walked back towards the house.

"Less," Harry said. "With the two of them looking, it shouldn't take more than thirty seconds. It just depends what Fred and George decide to do."

"Are you going to tell me what you two are talking about?" Hermione said.

"No," Ron said, grinning at her. "Give it five minutes, and if you can't work it out, we'll let you know then."

"Fine," Hermione said. "Be stupid, have your joke, see if I c-"

Hermione was interrupted by an enormous explosion in the middle of the orchard, which sent birds soaring into the air for hundreds of feet around. Ron and Harry exchanged looks, each trying to stop from bursting out laughing, while Hermione looked from one to the other, understanding slowly dawning on her face.

"Lee and Katie, they didn't go for a walk, did they?" she asked.

"Well, they may have done," Ron said, grinning at her. "But from what we saw, they got a bit carried away."

Ron's sentence was punctuated by the twin cracks that announced Fred and George's reappearance. The twins hit the ground running, and dashed past Harry, Ron and Hermione laughing uproariously. As they dashed into the Burrow, Harry turned and watched the orchard expectantly. Sure enough, Lee Jordan soon erupted from beneath the trees, running full pelt toward the house. He leapt over the hedge that separated the Weasley garden from the field beyond, and was still accelerating as he approached Harry and the others. He skidded to a halt by the three of them, his bare chest heaving.

"Where. . ?" he managed to gasp, between huge, deep, breaths.

Ron pointed mutely towards the house. Lee was about to dash inside when an upstairs window flew open and Fred and George poked their heads out.

"Hi Lee!" Fred called.

"Don't give me 'Hi Lee' you git!" Lee bellowed. Harry winced, wondering if Lee had really needed the magical microphone that he'd used throughout his time as Quidditch commentator at Hogwarts. "Get down here, so I can tear your ruddy heads off!"

"Lee, please, calm down!" George yelled. "Keep your shirt on mate!"

"Hang on George, he can't. Why aren't you wearing a shirt, Lee?" Fred shouted down.

"You know exactly why I'm not wearing a shirt!" Lee yelled. "You torched it, you ginger -"

Hermione winced as Lee launched into a foul-mouthed tirade. Ron grinned, and Harry suspected that he was memorising some of the more choice terms for use when next he met Draco Malfoy. For his own part, Harry was impressed at the words Lee was using. Perhaps because he tended to be wrapped up in the action when Lee was commentating, he didn't always pay precise attention to what was being said. He was fairly sure, however, that there were words being used that Lee would never have got away with had he been commentating on Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, for example.

Such was Lee's range of swear words, in fact, that several minutes passed before he wound down. This was probably more to do with the sudden appearance of Mrs Weasley at the kitchen door than any lack of new words on his part.

"Hello, Lee dear," she said brightly. "It's been a while since we last saw you here. You've been keeping well, I hope?"

"Er. . . Yes, Mrs Weasley," Lee said, his eyes fixed on the ground. He looked incredibly embarrassed.

"Glad to hear it," she went on. "Fred and George tell me you got all your N.E.W.Ts?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Lee replied, his eyes still on the floor. "Got an O, three Es and an A."

"How wonderful," Mrs Weasley said. "Of course, those two. . ." she looked up at where Fred and George were hanging out of the window. "Well, I won't say what they got. Thank heavens they don't have to look for real work, I suppose."

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Lee said, as though he felt he needed to say something.

"And what are you going to do, Lee?" Mrs Weasley asked politely.

"I. . . I want to become involved with Quidditch coaching," Lee said, looking up for the first time. "I'm hoping that Madam Hooch can help me get started."

"Well, that's nice," Mrs Weasley said with a smile. "I'd better get started on dinner, as it's a special day." She smiled at Harry. Turning to leave, she looked over her shoulder.

"Oh, Lee?" she said.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?"

"Didn't you come down with Katie today?"

She went back inside and Lee stood as though frozen. There was a fresh burst of laughter from Fred and George as they slammed the upstairs window. Lee looked at Harry, Ron and Hermione as though searching for something.

"Er. . . Harry?" he said. "Be a mate. Lend us your shirt for a few minutes."

It dawned on Harry what had happened to Lee's shirt, and why it was that Katie hadn't followed him out of the woods. Trying to hold back a grin that was threatening to split his face in two, he handed his pile of packages to Hermione, and undid his shirt, handing it to Lee. He took his things back from Hermione as Lee dashed off back towards the orchard, a stream of new curses trailing in his wake. Ron collapsed to the floor, shaking with laughter as soon as Lee was out of earshot. Hermione looked down at him with look of mingled amusement and annoyance.

"It's not _that_ funny, Ron," she said. "Poor Katie could have been seen. I'd die if someone did that to me."

"Oh, come on Hermione," Ron said, climbing to his feet and dropping a bottle of Butterbeer as he did so. "That was classic. Serves them right for stopping for a snog, too."

Hermione turned to Harry for support, but he shook his head.

"Hermione, if you'd seen what I did. . ." he looked down at his bare chest. "Well, you pretty much are seeing what I did," he said, grinning. "Still, it was a bit rough of Fred and George," he added, catching Hermione's eye.

"Harry?"

Harry turned back towards the house, and the grin on his face faded a little. Standing in the doorway, her arms covered in flour and a dab of icing sugar on her nose, was Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the Weasley children and, for the last five-and-a-half months, Harry's girlfriend. Of all the ways he'd imagined having his shirt off in front of her, Harry thought irrelevantly, this hadn't made the list.

"Harry Potter," she said, coming out into the garden. "Is there any reason why my brother and my best friend are standing there, with you half naked? Is there something you're not telling me?" 

The tone of her voice told Harry she wasn't in the least bit worried, but he still felt uncomfortable. Normally, he would have run his hand through his hair to buy a little time. He settled for jiggling the things in his arms as he stuttered.

"Fred and George," Ron said, his cheeks still pink from laughing so hard. "They blew up Lee and Katie's shirts. Harry leant Lee his so that Katie could come back down from the orchard."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Well, why didn't you just tell me that, Harry?"

__

Because every time I see you, I feel like it's the first time. Because when you're around me, I lose control of my lips, and they just sit there, waiting for me to kiss you. Because you do weird things to me that mean I can't concentrate properly, and I lose the ability to think straight. Because I still can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you.

"Er. . ." he managed to say. Ginny sighed, not unhappily.

"My boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen," she said, her eyes sparkling. "The great elocutionist." She stood up on tiptoes, and pecked Harry on the cheek.

"Best get this lot inside," Ron said hurriedly. "Come on, Harry, you need to get changed anyway. The others will be here soon."

"Yeah, right," Harry said, grinning foolishly as he followed Ron into the house. "Best get on, then."

Hermione and Ginny, who stayed outside, looked at each other, and shook their heads in identical expressions of exasperated acceptance.

*

"Mrs Weasley, Ginny, that was a _fantastic_ meal," Seamus Finnigan declared, setting his knife and fork down and leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

"Why thank you Seamus," Mrs Weasley said, smiling. Everyone around the table quickly added their agreement to this. "Now, Harry, what next? Presents, or cake?" 

"Presents!" George said, barely allowing Mrs Weasley to finish what she was saying.

"Yeah, mum, it's only Ginny's baking that made the cake anyw-" Fred began, before Bill silenced him with a swift wave of his wand. Fred continued moving his lips for a few seconds, before realising he'd been cut off. Glaring at Bill, he mouthed something at his older brother. It looked rude to Harry, who grinned into his glass of pumpkin juice.

"Presents, I think," he said, adding diplomatically ""It'll give the dinner a chance to settle. I'm looking forward to my birthday cake."

Harry was relishing the chance to spend his birthday among friends, as he usually had to endure summer holidays at Number Four, Privet Drive. Formerly he had to live with the Dursleys, his only surviving relatives. This summer, however, the Dursleys had arranged to spend the entire summer at a health farm, and rather than pay for Harry to attend as well, they had somehow managed to convince Albus Dumbledore, Harry's headmaster, that he should spend the summer with someone else. Harry had been delighted; the chance to enjoy the summer with some of his best friends was beyond anything he could have hoped for. And now, on his birthday, it seemed that half of Gryffindor house had made their way to the Burrow to share it with him.

Looking around happily, his gaze took in Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Colin Creevey, Seamus Finnigan and Lavender Brown. As well as those, there was also Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom and Daniella Spinnet, Katie and Lee, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, the whole of the rest of the Weasley family and, seemingly squashing everyone else into one corner of the Weasley's garden, Rubeus Hagrid. Harry's grin widened as he thought of the great fuss caused by Hagrid suddenly Apparating in the middle of preparations for the party.

"Jus' passed me test," he'd declared. "Dumbledore fixed it for me to sit it, seeing as I shouldn'ta been expelled all them years ago. Great man, Dumbledore," he'd added, unnecessarily. Everyone at the party was fully convinced of Dumbledore's greatness.

The first present Harry opened came from Fred and George. It seemed harmless enough, especially compared to the exploding gift they'd given him the year before. Nonetheless, as it sat docilely on his lap, he took a great deal of care opening it. Peeling away the last of the wrappings, he looked down at the gift with a hint of confusion.

"It's a book," he said. 

"Ah, Hogwarts," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "What a place. Harry's only been there five years and he already knows what a book looks like."

George shook his head. "It's not just _any_ book, Harry," he said. "Look inside."

Harry opened the book, still taking the utmost care. He had learned before that Fred and George often came up with some very tricky surprises.

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh wow."

"What is it, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked.

Harry held up the book so that everyone could read the inscription.

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Practical Lessons: The Marauder's Manual for Life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

We bid you welcome, discerning readers. We have enchanted this copy of 1001 Great Accountancy Anecdotes (Volume Four) so that it reveals, on command, certain lessons that we feel are useful to following generations at Hogwarts, and which somehow never seem to get taught by our respected schoolmasters.

Herein you shall find advice on the secret passages that lie hidden behind Hogwarts walls, tips on how to get away without doing your homework, and most importantly, the best ways of attracting the opposite sex. Use it wisely, and in case a teacher catches you with us in your pocket, always remember the magic words: "But please, Professor, it wasn't me."

The Marauder's Manual is brought to you by Messrs Wormtail, Padfoot, Moony and Prongs.

Harry laughed out loud, and looked up from the book with a huge grin on his face.

"It's amazing," he said to a gratified looking Fred and George. "Where did you find it?"

"Well, young Harry," Fred began, assuming the pose of a grandfather passing down his favourite stories. "Last year, George and I were doing a runner from Filch and Mrs Norris."

"We ended up in the library, of all places," George chipped in. "Well, Madam Pince didn't look too keen on us hanging around, so we legged it down one of the aisles and found ourselves in the Muggle Relations section. We sort of grabbed books, and I remembered that one of mum's cousins is an accountant so I thought I'd see if he managed to get into Hogwarts after all."

Mrs Weasley laughed on hearing this. "Yes, poor old David. He's a good sport about being a Squib. You should see him and Arthur whenever David buys a new electric thing."

Fred grinned, and carried on the story.

"Anyway, it was just like when we found the Marauders Map, oh these many years ago. As soon as George opened it, that inscription came up on the front page. If you say that bit at the end, it turns back into a normal book."

"We figured you'd like it, Harry. It sort of makes sense for you to end up with the map and the book as well. Pass them on wisely."

The rest of the presents, while wonderful, didn't really stand much chance against the book. Although Fred and George didn't know it, they had given Harry another link to his father, and that was about the best present he could have hoped for.

Only at the end of the present giving did Harry receive a gift that drove the book from his mind. Setting aside the Gillyweed plant he'd been given by Neville and Daniella, he picked up the last box, smiling as he realised there was only one person who hadn't given him anything so far. He caught Ginny's eye as he untied the knot on her present. Looking down, he felt his smile widen as he pulled the paper away. 

"Wow," he said, lifting his present from the packaging. "Ginny. . ." he breathed. "This is just. . ."

"Colin helped me," she said hurriedly. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

It was a framed still photo of Harry playing Quidditch the previous year, against Hufflepuff. The photo had been taken an instant before Harry closed his hand around the Snitch, and he had apparently been right in front of Colin when the photo was taken. The clarity on the photo was perfect, Harry could see the intense look of concentration on his face, the beads of sweat lining his eyebrows, the sunlight gleaming off the Snitch, everything. He set it carefully down on the table, and stood up. Walking around the table, he swept Ginny up into a tight hug and held her against him for as long as he dared. Only Mr Weasley clearing his throat meaningfully made Harry set her down, and when he did, he saw that she had tears streaming down her face.

"You really like it?" she said.

"Really," he replied.

They stood there, grinning foolishly at one another, as the others got up and began tidying away. Only when Mrs Weasley brought out the birthday cake was the spell broken.

Harry took a slice of cake from Ron, who has assumed cake-cutting duties. He raised it to his mouth, inhaling the deep aroma of chocolate and almonds, before biting deep into it.

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This is it, Potter. The first big test of your relationship. Just smile and look as if you're really enjoying it. It can't be that hard.

Conversation paused while people chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. Ron offered second helpings to everyone as they finished their slices, but only he and Hagrid had them. 

*

Soon enough, darkness had fallen and the party broke up. Those who were going back to their homes that evening made their goodbyes, while those who were squeezing into the Burrow for the night began the cycle of bathroom use that would take up much of the next hour.

At length, Harry and Ron were the last ones left awake. They sat by the fire in the kitchen, sharing a last bottle of Butterbeer before heading up to bed.

"Good day, Harry?" Ron asked.

"The best," Harry replied truthfully. "I can't imagine it being much better. It's just a shame Sirius and Remus couldn't make it."

"They said they'd drop by sometime soon in their last letter, didn't they?"

"Yeah. I'm not too bothered. If they had come down today, I wouldn't have had much chance to see them. Besides, not everyone knows that Sirius is innocent."

"Yeah, true. Still," Ron said, picking the Marauder's Manual up from the kitchen table. "It's not like you didn't get something from them after all. Your dad, too."

"Yeah," Harry said, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. "Want a look?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Ron said. He opened the book about halfway through, and the two friends watched as the printing faded away and was replaced by new writing.

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Chapter Seventeen: The Fairer Sex, Part Four

As has been commented in previous chapters, we're big fans of girls. We like them a lot. For those of you without our stunning good looks, charm and natural charisma, here are some tips for how to maximise your impact with the ladies. . .

Harry and Ron read on in silence. Eventually, they looked at one another.

"They must have got in so much trouble for this," Harry said, eventually. 

"D'you think anyone would have been stupid enough to take them seriously?" Ron asked.

"Who knows?" Harry said. "I mean, it's a good few years since they left school. Maybe people weren't as ready for that sort of thing. They were, well, originals."

"It must be pretty weird," Ron said, looking pack down at the passage. "Knowing your dad was talking about, well, _that_."

Harry went pale. Just the thought of his dad giving him love advice was enough to make him feel a bit ill. He shut the book with a snap.

"Let's get some sleep," he said, setting the book down.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, heading for the camp beds in the front room. "Hey, d'you reckon Fred and George ever used any of the advice in that book?"

"Probably not. They only had it a few months. Still, might explain why Alicia broke up with George."

"Yeah. Reckon there's anything good in there?"

"Maybe. Remus wouldn't have done something completely useless."

"Guess not," Ron said, climbing into his bed. "Well, happy birthday, Harry."

"Cheers Ron," Harry replied. As the two friends settled down, the candles in the kitchen and the front room dimmed gradually until they eventually put themselves out.

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To be continued. . .


	3. Chapter Two: Three Visitors

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Author's note: Thanks to Aggiebell, Nick Coghlan, Frantic, Josh N and Sherbert79 for reviewing the first two chapters.

****

Chapter Two: Three Visitors

"Harry? Harry? Come on now dear. Wake up now. Harry. . ."

Harry slowly opened his eyes. He had been dreaming of Hogwarts, of being back in class once more. In his dream, he'd been in Potions class, but instead of Professor Snape taking the lesson, there had been a giant snake which had tried to eat Dean Thomas. Harry had been hissing at it, but the snake had merely redoubled its efforts, as though Harry was egging it on. It had been at this point that Harry had been awakened.

Mrs Weasley was standing by his bed, a sizzling frying pan in one hand and her wand in the other.

"Come on now Harry. You've got more visitors," she said. "Hurry up and get dressed, there's a good lad."

Harry rushed through washing and dressing, inadvertently giving Charlie a nasty shock when he turned the hot tap in the bathroom while Charlie was showering. He headed back downstairs, his hair still wet but knowing that there was no point at all in trying to straighten out his wild hair.

As he walked into the kitchen, he pulled up short, and a big drop of water fell from the end of his fringe onto his cheek, where it trickled slowly downwards.

"Harry, we're glad to see you too, but there's no need to cry," one of the visitors said, grinning widely. He stood up, running a hand through his short, black hair. He seemed to have put on weight in the year since Harry had last seen him, and Harry thought his godfather looked much better for it.

"Sirius!" he yelled, having regained his voice. He stepped forward, and the two embraced in a big, back slapping hug.

"Not just me, Harry," Sirius said. He waved his hand at the table, and Harry's grin widened still further as Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore rose and shook his hand.

"Sorry we couldn't make it yesterday, Harry," Sirius said, as the four took their seats. "We were delayed at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore suggested we travel down with him in one of the school coaches, which was certainly more comfortable than walking all the way down here."

"You were going to walk?" Harry asked, looking up from his breakfast. He was distantly aware of the others eating in the front room, but his attention was solidly on the three grown wizards in front of him.

"Padfoot is exaggerating, Harry, as always," Remus said, tolerantly. "In fact, since he got a new wand, he's almost impossible to keep in one place."

"You have a new wand?" Harry asked, feeling that there was a lot he needed to catch up on.

"Well, not exactly new," Sirius said. He pulled a black wand from inside his robes, the handle of which was tipped in silver. "Recognise it, Harry?"

Harry certainly did recognise it. It seemed just minutes ago that he had held that wand, only to see it torn away, along with his own wand, and fly into the open hand of Lucius Malfoy.

"That's Lucius Malfoy's wand," Harry breathed. Sirius grinned.

"That's right," he said. "Had to get rid of that ugly snake's head, of course. Amazing what you can do with a hammer and a file in just a few minutes."

"I'm afraid Sirius was rather taken with Mr Malfoy's wand when he reported to me earlier this month," Professor Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time since a quiet 'Hello'. "As it is quite impossible for him to enter a wandmakers anywhere in the wizarding world, I thought it might be wise to equip him with one of my fondest prizes."

"And he's been like a child with a new toy ever since," Remus added, rolling his eyes in a tolerant way. Sirius grinned, and Harry could see the mischief sparkling in his eye.

"Speaking of which, Harry. . ." Remus said. He lifted up a book that Harry recognised the Marauders Manual. "However did you come by this?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and then glanced sideways at Dumbledore. The old wizard caught Harry's eye, and adjusted his half-moon spectacles, peering closer at the book cover.

"Ah, accountancy," he said benignly. "Never quite my cup of tea. Perhaps I shall leave you three to discuss this doubtless excellent set of accounts. I think Arthur is out in the garden. I have a matter I wish to discuss with him that shall take exactly five minutes. After that, I shall return."

So saying, Dumbledore stood up, sweeping his long beard over his shoulder and striding out of the kitchen door and into the garden beyond. In the silence that followed, Harry dimly noted that the sounds of breakfast in the other room had gone.

"Well, Harry?" Sirius grinned. Harry smiled back. He hadn't really thought he was in any trouble with Remus and Sirius, but it was nice to know for sure.

"It was a birthday present from Fred and George Weasley," he said. "They were the ones who found the Marauders Map, too."

"Indeed?" Sirius said, sounding impressed. "I must meet these boys. . ."

"Later, Sirius, perhaps," Remus said. "Before the Headmaster returns, Harry, have you looked at this book yet?"

"Me and Ron glanced at it, yeah," Harry said. "We weren't going to follow your advice, to be honest I don't know if things have changed since you were at school, but-"

"Chapter Seventeen, right?" Sirius asked, his eyes creasing at the corners as he tried not to smile. "That one wasn't, er. . ." he looked at Remus.

"I think that what Sirius is trying to say, Harry," Lupin said with a wide smile, "is that Chapter Seventeen is a bit of a joke. It's the one you show to the _other_ boy who's after the girl you like. It's also the chapter that the book opens to if any girl tries to read it. There are ways of enchanting the book to make sure it only shows the accountancy stuff to anyone other than the owner, but we didn't have time to do that much work on it. Maybe it's something you and Ron can do. Your legacy to Hogwarts," he added, with a laugh.

Harry smiled at the effort that his father and his friends had put into the Manual. It seemed that they had thought of everything.

"Not that you need any of the advice in here, as I understand it," Sirius said suddenly. He looked at Harry sharply. "When do I get to meet this girlfriend of yours, then?"

Harry was saved from replying by Dumbledore's return. As the Headmaster stepped back into the kitchen, Harry thought he heard a noise outside the door, but dismissed it as he looked up at his teacher.

"I have brought Arthur up to date with our progress," Dumbledore said, glancing at Remus and Sirius. He took his seat again, and smiled at Harry.

"First, Harry, let me wish you a belated Happy Birthday," he said. Harry smiled as Remus and Sirius echoed the wish. "I hope it was a satisfactory day?"

"Very much so, sir," Harry replied, smiling at the memory.

"Excellent. Now, as you may or may not be aware, in the British Muggle world the sixteenth birthday is seen as something of a landmark in the life of a person. They are granted certain liberties, responsibilities if you will, such as the right to smoke, marry, and ride a moped. Now, I hope none of these will be too tempting to you. I myself tried riding a moped once upon a time, which is where I received the scar on my knee. A most useful scar in the shape of the London Underground map, and it even alters itself to include new lines and new stations, but it still rather hurt at the time.

"No, for you, Harry, I'm afraid responsibility takes its usual form, in much the same manner as it has done since you came to Hogwarts five years ago. Voldemort has increased his efforts in recent weeks, Harry, since his forces were so embarrassingly defeated in Hogsmeade. Whilst his Death Eaters inflicted some losses, they themselves suffered the capture of possibly their most prominent member, Lucius Malfoy."

Harry smiled slightly, a grim satisfaction at having been there when Lucius had been defeated.

"It also appears that the Dementors have, for the time being at least, retracted their support. It seems that they attempted to feed on some of Voldemort's forces during the battle, which doubtless aided us somewhat.

"Following their apparent departure, and I should make it clear that we are not certain that the Dementors have truly left, it appears that Voldemort has redoubled his efforts to gain an advantage over our side. He has sent envoys to the giants, and while I think that Madame Maxine and Hagrid have convinced them to at least stay out of the coming conflict, we can never be certain. As well as this. . ." Dumbledore paused.

"Do you remember, Harry, what we spoke of on the morning of Remus' departure from Hogwarts a little over two years ago?"

Harry thought back, absently swigging his cold tea as he did so. He remembered discussing Wormtail, and how all the Marauders had been present in the castle grounds the night before. He thought of Professor Trelawney, and how Dumbledore had mentioned giving her a raise. At last, he looked back up at his Headmaster, feeling as though he were answering a particularly difficult question in class.

"Professor Trelawney," he said. "You said that when she predicted Pettigrew rejoining Voldemort, it was her second real prophecy."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, looking delighted. "Very good, Harry. Yes, Once before Professor Trelawney has made what I believe to be a genuine prediction. It involved you, Harry, in a way."

"Me? What do you mean?"

Dumbledore pulled a rolled up piece of parchment from inside his robes. Tapping it with his hand, he put it own on the table where it unrolled itself. Harry looked at it, as did Remus and Sirius. It appeared to be quite blank. Lupin looked up at Dumbledore, but the old wizard was looking fixedly at the parchment, murmuring something under his breath.

Suddenly, the parchment moved, making Harry flinch in his chair. It folded itself over several times, including at one point parting at what Harry was sure was the edge of one fold, and rejoining two edges. Eventually, the parchment lay flat on the table again, and Dumbledore looked up.

"My apologies," he said. I had quite forgotten that the parchment had been protected. It will now display the information we desire. You may wish to know that it is a prediction written down by Professor Trelawney whilst in a trance shortly after she started working at Hogwarts. I believe it to be quite genuine, especially in light of recent. . . Ah-"

Writing had begun to appear on the parchment. Harry recognised the writing as that of his Divination teacher. All too often he had seen large samples of it attached to his homework, criticising his lack of effort, application, understanding or sometimes all three.

__

For when comes the sixth year of the boy who survived, then shall the greatest enemy seek out the enemy of the greatest and attempt to combine magic old and magic new. Let this serve as a warning. Should the enemy triumph in their quest then surely the snake shall rise to rule over all. First among the poisoned shall be that one whose survival brought about the fall of the enemy at the moment of his great triumph. If evil and evil shall meet, grave shall the consequences be, and grave shall the consequences be.

There was a stunned silence as Harry, Lupin and Sirius digested the prophecy, then Remus spoke up.

"Well, it sounded like complete rubbish to me, so I guess it really was Professor Trelawney. And yet you say you believe it, Albus?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said. "Of course, the sixth year could have meant Harry's sixth year of life, and we spent a great deal of energy during that year trying to find out what the prophecy meant. Now we believe that it means this coming school year, Harry's sixth. Of course, before we go much further, I think it is time to open the door and invite everyone who is outside and listening to come and join us."

Sirius waved his wand at the kitchen door, which slammed open, tipping several bodies loudly onto the floor. Only Hermione stood upright, apparently not having given into the temptation to listen at the door, but staying close enough to get updates from the others.

Harry and Remus leapt to their feet to help the fallen eavesdroppers. Harry hauled Ron and Ginny to their feet, while Remus untangled the twins, before pulling them upright. Ron stood before Professor Dumbledore, transfixed in the Headmasters gaze.

"Er. . ."

"Yes, Mr Weasley?"

"Well, we were wondering if we could come in and do the washing up now?"

"Five of you to do the washing up?" Dumbledore asked. "Molly is indeed very lucky to have so many willing helpers. However, the time for washing up is yet to come, I think. Instead, you may join us and help us with out plans for the coming year, if you wish."

They sat down at the kitchen table, and Remus read out the prophecy. While Remus was speaking, Harry let his eyes wander over the faces of his friends. Hermione's was a study in rapt attention, her eyes focussed on Lupin, she was obviously taking in everything their former teacher was saying. Ron was watching everyone else. While Harry was sure that he would catch the gist of the prophecy, he wouldn't know the details. Instead, Ron would be thinking of the overall impact, how the prophecy would affect those he cared for and the world beyond. Fred and George wore identical inscrutable expressions. Harry had learned that they could take some things very seriously indeed, and he was glad they were there.

Lastly, he looked at Ginny. He knew he wouldn't be the only person to make the connection between the 'Greatest Enemy' of the prophecy and Voldemort, and he was worried about Ginny's reaction. He looked at her, and smiled reflexively as he realised she was watching him. Nonetheless, she seemed alert, and was clearly listening to Lupin as he read out the prophecy. She smiled at him slightly, a small signal to let him know she was there. He relaxed back in his chair, and looked around the group. 

He found his gaze drawn to Sirius. His godfather was sitting slumped in his chair, with his chin on his chest. He didn't seem to be listening to Lupin's reading. Instead, he was stealing glances across the table. Harry followed his gaze, and realised that his Sirius was looking at Ginny. Harry felt vaguely uneasy about the surreptitious way Sirius was acting, as though Sirius was sizing Ginny up. He thought of the sharp way that Sirius had asked about her earlier, and a slight shiver ran down his spine.

Remus' reading came to an end, and Ron rocked back in his chair. Dumbledore looked around the table.

"I would value your opinions," he said.

"Er, Professor?" Hermione said. "Surely this prophecy has been studied by more experienced wizards than us?"

"Indeed it has, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "Nevertheless, I would like your opinions. As I had to come to the Burrow today, I decided to seek out another set of opinions to those that have been given over the years."

"Well, it seems to me. . ." Fred began, before looking over at George.

"Well, the Greatest Enemy is You-Know-Who, right?" George said, for the two of them.

"That is what we surmise, yes," Dumbledore said, inclining his head a fraction.

"The enemy of the greatest. . ." Hermione murmured. All heads turned to watch her. "Does it mean, well, Morgan Le Fay, Professor?"

Dumbledore peered at Hermione over the top of his spectacles. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, I read a lot of medieval novels growing up, and I loved reading about Camelot, King Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere. . . And Merlin," she added. "Morgan Le Fay was Merlin's great enemy. She wanted King Arthur to banish him, because he was King Arthur's oldest friend and most trusted adviser. And she was scared of how powerful a wizard he was. But she could do magic as well, couldn't she?"

"Indeed. Miss Granger, it took many weeks of study for some of the most learned wizards of this age to draw the conclusion that this prophecy referred to Morgan Le Fay. Most impressive."

Hermione blushed, and muttered something about having fewer possibilities to consider than the older wizards would have.

"And they do so often ignore their classical literature," Dumbledore said. "I trust you are still reading the classics?" he asked. Hermione nodded, blushing pinkly. Harry looked at Ron, who was watching Hermione with an expression of outright pride that made Harry grin. The smile only lasted for a second, however, as Harry thought of the prophecy and ran it over again in his mind. He had a very bad feeling about what it was saying.

"If evil and evil meet. . ." Ron mused. "So, You-Know-Who is going looking for this Le Fay woman? But, if she was alive in Merlin's time, she must be long dead, right?"

Dumbledore stared at the prophecy for a long second before replying.

"Many years ago, there were ways of prolonging life when it reached its lowest ebb," he said at last. "This magic is lost to us, although echoes of it remain. The spell known as Enervate is a poor relation of this magic, for example. Do you remember the end of King Arthur's tale, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"He was fatally wounded in battle, and taken away by the Lady of the Lake. He's supposed to return, alive and fully healed, when England needs him the most," she said, a distant expression on her face, almost as though she had the books open in front of her.

"Where was he taken?" Ron asked.

"The Isle of Albion," Sirius said. "I read a lot as a child too," he said, smiling at Hermione.

"So, where is this place? Did this Lady stay there?" Fred asked.

"As to the location of Albion, no-one knows," Dumbledore said. "Some have theorised that it is simply unplottable, or that its whereabouts were known only to a Secret Keeper. Others have suggested that it exists only in another dimension that cannot be accessed from our own unless the old magic is once again found. Whether any or none of this proves to be true, it does seem to be Albion that Voldemort seeks. One rather supposes that the Lady had some kind of sanctuary there that she used in her attempt to heal the King."

"And Le Fay?" Ginny asked. Harry's eyes met hers, and drew strength from her resoluteness, her unwillingness to bow in the face of another attempt by Voldemort on their lives and the lives of all wizardkind.

"Lost to the annals of time," Dumbledore said. "Whatever became of her, she does not seem to reappear in any way after Arthur's defeat."

"Hang on," George said, slowly. "I remember Bill telling us a story once, about wizards back when magic was just starting to be controlled. Something about great magic wars," his expression misted over with the effort of recollection, "and how all true wizards would have a stronghold where they practised their spells and could just be safe from attack."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very true, although not many of these strongholds survived their creators death."

"What if Le Fay built one?" Fred asked. "What if that's what You-Know-Who is after?"

Dumbledore inclined his head once more. "Very good, Mr Weasley. It is known as the Temple of Le Fay. Some wizards take her complete disappearance as a sign that she retreated and hid somewhere. No real proof has ever been found. . ."

"But Le Fay was a good enough witch that you can believe she would have made sure no proof could be found. That way no-one could come after her," Sirius finished the sentence.

"Indeed."

"So you think that this is what Voldemort is after?" Remus asked.

"I do. I may, of course, be wrong. Every possible interpretation of the scroll is being checked thoroughly. On the last lines, however, we are all in agreement."

"If Voldemort gets what he's after, he'll kill me," Harry said quietly. He had reached the conclusion while the others had been talking.

"So it would appear," Dumbledore said. "If only the rest of the prophecy were so clear."

"And the last line?" Ron asked

"A somewhat grisly play on words. If Voldemort does succeed in adding Morgan Le Fay's magic to his own, then the consequences shall be serious, and there shall be many graves dug."

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "I am sorry to spoil your holidays in this way, Harry, but I wished for you to know what the precautions are for."

Harry looked up.

"Precautions?" he echoed.

"Yes. There will be many new staff members this year. Research assistants in the library will seek out anything, however obscure, that may help our search. They will be working extensively in the library. They will be talking with Professor Trelawney at length. They will likely be with us for much of the coming school year. 

"They are employees of the Ministry of Magic."

The silence was deafening.

"You most likely know of the problems the Ministry has had, trying to cover the news of Voldemort's return. Minister Fudge has decided to place a number of his employees at Hogwarts this year in order that any unusual occurrences are brought immediately to his attention."

Sirius snorted.

"Just researching, are they? I wonder how long that will last?"

"For exactly as long as I wish," Dumbledore stated, calmly.

*

Dumbledore departed shortly after that. Harry had walked out of the kitchen, his head swimming with all the information he had received. Another ploy by Voldemort, another eventful year ahead. His mind flashed back to his third year at Hogwarts, when everyone had thought that Sirius was trying to kill him. He felt like that again now, forewarned but hardly forearmed. 

He found an old apple tree that was growing in the orchard and swung himself up among its branches. As he did so, he thought what he knew of the old stories of King Arthur and his adventures.

__

Not much, really. Wasn't there something about a sword in a stone? And he had the round table to show that everyone was equal. And Merlin advised him. That's all. Who on earth is Morgan Le Fay?

"Harry?" 

He looked down and saw Ron on the ground, peering up into the branches of the tree.

"Come on up," he called.

Ron made his way gingerly up the tree, tearing his shirt on one of the branches, which resulted in him swearing loudly. Huffing greatly, he settled uncomfortably onto a branch next to Harry, and looked at his friend as though waiting for an explosion.

"Quite something, all that stuff that Dumbledore told us, isn't it?"

"Guess so," Harry said, staring at the knee of his jeans. There was a small fray in the material, and Harry poked at it moodily.

"Maybe we should just give school up, what d'you reckon?" Ron asked. "I mean, we got our O.W.Ls, we can go and fight Voldemort now."

"I've thought about it," Harry said, shortly. "But it's stupid to think I can go out there and fight. How many spells can I actually do? I don't think Voldemort will mess about if I see him again. It'll just be Avada Kedavra and he'll step over my body as though I didn't mean anything."

He looked over at Ron.

"Do you ever get the feeling it's all hopeless?"

Ron looked over at him anxiously, apparently weighing his reply carefully.

"Sure," he said eventually. "You-Know-Who being back scares the sh. . . scares the pants off me," he admitted. He pulled a face. "Then I think of how easy we have it. We're going to be at Hogwarts, the safest place on this earth. Nothing can really touch us so long as Dumbledore is around, and besides, if he is looking for this Temple place, it should mean he doesn't give the rest of the world as much hassle."

"I know that you're right, and I'm being stupid," Harry said. "It's just. . . I'm only just sixteen, and Professor Dumbledore is coming to me and telling me all this stuff. I mean, what do I know about Morgan Le Fay? Hermione seems to know a bit, but what can I do? It seems like everything that happens has to involve me, well, us."

"Yeah, seems that way," Ron said, plucking a leaf from it's stem and looking at it idly. "Does that really bother you?" 

"No, I suppose not," Harry admitted, still poking at his jeans. "Whatever happens, I'd want to know. Really, I'm glad that Professor Dumbledore is telling me this from the start. Its better than finding out by accident. Besides, at least we'll know what all the new people at Hogwarts are there for."

The two friends shared a smile, then Ron looked around, and lowered his voice.

"From what dad and Perce have been saying, I don't think that Fudge has a lot of support left at the Ministry. I think most of the Aurors know that You-Know-Who is back. They can all fight, they all saw the Dementors and the Death Eaters last year. Who else but, well, _him _could get that kind of co-operation going? So people believe he's back, doesn't matter what it says in the Daily Prophet. They can keep on saying it's all lies and fakes, but most people know the real truth."

Harry nodded, still poking at the small hole he'd now made in his jeans.

"Yeah, because of me again. I guess it's another year of being the Boy Who Lived, the one everyone thinks is right at the centre of all the weird stuff."

"Well," Ron said, "you said yourself last year that people will always look to you. Just be yourself, mate. It's always been good enough up until now, right?"

*

Ginny and Hermione walked by the river that ran alongside the Weasley's home. They walked slowly, the two friends not wanting to talk at first about what they had heard that morning. Eventually, inevitably, the conversation turned that way, and the first thing either one of them said was simple.

"I'm scared."

Hermione nodded. She felt the same way as Ginny did.

"Me too."

"Not just for me, or Harry, or my family. . ." Ginny tailed off. "I'm scared for everyone. We know that You-Know-Who came back, but if he's going to get this old magic, if he's going to be stronger, then I don't know how we can beat him."

She looked over the water, her expression unreadable.

"He nearly killed Harry last time they met, and then nobody has heard of him for over a year. What if this Temple isn't all that he's been after? What if there are other things out there that he's already got?"

Hermione stopped to watch the fish swimming gracefully through the river. She squatted down, and dipped her hand in the water, letting its coolness trickle through her fingers. Eventually, she looked up at her friend.

"He might have, but I don't think so," she said. "Professor Dumbledore is the smartest wizard alive, and if he doesn't know about something like that, it almost certainly doesn't exist. The Temple of Le Fay, from what he said, is legendary, so I have to think that anything else like that would be as well known."

Ginny looked a little more hopeful. "I guess so, but even so, the thought of him back, stronger than anyone can imagine, it's terrifying. And I know Harry thinks so, as well, otherwise he'd have been here, trying to make us think otherwise."

Hermione sighed. Ginny was right. Harry was a born leader, and had proven so the previous year. She needed Harry or Ron to be here, because she was as scared as Ginny was, and was trying hard not to show it.

A sound behind the two girls made them jump, and they spun around to find Remus and Sirius standing before them. Lupin smiled.

"Hermione, Ginny," he said. "Have either of you seen Harry at all? We wanted to talk to him before we have to set off again."

"You're going already? Hermione asked, clearly disappointed.

"Afraid so," Sirius said, his face blank as he looked at the two girls. "We have to get on with our work." His eyes flickered over Ginny for a second. "But we wanted to talk to him before we get going."

"You could try the orchard," Ginny said. "He might be playing Quidditch there." She stared at Sirius obstinately, as though she felt he'd offended her. For a second, their gazes met.

*

Harry sat bolt upright in the tree, narrowly missing a branch just above his head. Ron looked at him.

"What's up?"

"I. . . I don't know," Harry said. "Where are the others?"

"Fred and George have gone in to work," Ron said. "Hermione and Ginny are off together somew- Hey!"

"Come on!" Harry yelled, already sliding down the trunk.

Ron didn't ask questions, and soon the two friends were sprinting out of the orchard, heading toward the river where they could see there girlfriends standing in front of two grown men.

*

"So, you're Ginny," Sirius said, his gaze blank and unwavering, the dark circles around his eyes making his stare seem slightly disturbing. His expression was inscrutable, his voice even and unemotional.

"I am," Ginny replied, her small frame was completely still, her voice as even as Sirius' was. "Was there something you wanted to say to me?"

Sirius let out a great sigh, and raised his eyes to the sky. Looking back down, the change on his face was remarkable. His face was split with a huge smile, and the weariness he carried with him seemed to vanish instantly.

"Moony here was right," he said, with a short bark of a laugh. "Ginny, you may not know that I'm Harry's godfather, but I am. A lot of my contact with Harry last year was centred on you in some way, and I wanted so much to be there for him. I know I wished for someone who knew what they were talking about when I started getting interested in girls, rather than this one here," he jerked a thumb at Remus, who grinned.

"I wish I was available to Harry more often, I have felt, and I _do_ feel that I am not fulfilling my role." Sirius sighed, heavily, before continuing. "I took some consolation in knowing that Harry had protection from Dumbledore and Hagrid, that he had great friends in Hermione-" he nodded to her "-and Ron. And now, I see, he has found a girlfriend with spirit."

To their great surprise, Hermione and Ginny watched as Sirius drew an arm across his face, obviously wiping away tears. When next he spoke, his voice sounded a little cracked, as though he were speaking through great emotion.

"Ginny, I have heard a lot about you, and I was hesitant to believe so much of it. I thought that Harry might have exaggerated your positive traits as boys his age tend to do. It seems like I was wrong. I'm sorry for thinking that. What I have seen here today, and having spoken at length with both Moony here and Albus, well, I think that you will be very good for Harry. In so much as I have any right to do so, I fully approve of you being with my godson." He smiled. "And I apologise for how pompous that sounds, but when you've missed as much of someone's life as I have, you want to make the most of moments like this."

Ginny grinned as the import of what Sirius was saying hit home. "Thank you," she said, slowly relaxing as she accepted that Sirius was on her side. "That means a lot. I know Harry thinks the world of you, so being given your approval is almost like-"

Impulsively, Ginny wrapped her arms around Sirius and hugged him. He looked flustered for a second, and then returned the embrace. 

"-like being given it by his parents." Ginny finished.

Remus and Hermione looked on, touched by the scene in front of them.

Suddenly, Harry and Ron appeared, leaping over the hedge that lay between the river and the orchard. They hurtled down the slope towards the group and arrived panting and out of breath.

"Sirius? Ginny?" Harry managed to gasp. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Harry," Sirius said hoarsely, as he released Ginny. "Everything is absolutely fine."

"We should be going, Padfoot old man," Lupin said quietly. Sirius nodded, pulling his wand from inside his robes. The two men turned to Harry.

"Can we have a word before we go, Harry?" Sirius asked. Harry nodded.

"Do you have to go so soon?" he asked. Lupin nodded regretfully.

"We don't get much time to rest, working against Voldemort and his followers."

The three of them walked a little way down the river, leaving Ron with Hermione and Ginny.

"What was all that about?" he asked. Ginny smiled, but didn't say anything. Hermione took Ron's hand and led him a short way away, leaving Ginny alone to take in Sirius' words of praise.

*

"I wish we could stay a little while as well," Sirius said. "I'd dearly like to get to know Ginny better, Harry. She seems a wonderful girl."

"She is," Harry said, feeling a little odd discussing his relationship with an adult. "I'm glad you like her."

"We both do," Lupin said, a smile lightening his heavily lined features. "Of course, Padfoot was the only one of us who felt that he had to give his blessing. You'd think that the two of you were getting married or something."

"Married?" Harry started. "I-"

"It's okay, Harry," Sirius said, scowling at Lupin with mock anger. "I know you're still young, but I'm trying to find my way with this whole godfather thing."

Harry smiled. "I've got no complaints," he said. Sirius grinned. "Just don't let Mrs Weasley hear anyone mention marriage. For Ron's brothers sakes as much as mine."

"Ron and Hermione seem to be getting along well enough," Sirius said, nodding along the bank to where Hermione and Ron were sitting.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "But Ron's a bit worried that Mrs Weasley will start thinking about marriage just because they've been going out for eight months now."

"Well, your parents were going out for not much longer. . ." Lupin tailed off. "But I'll leave you to tell Ron that, shall I?"

Harry grinned. "When did my parents start going out?" he asked.

"Seventh year," Sirius said, throwing himself down on the grass and stretching. "Well, they'd been dancing around one another since they were about thirteen, but eventually Lily gave in. James did most of the chasing, of course."

"I remember," Lupin continued, sitting down and trailing a hand in the river. "I was up in the common room, studying for a test we had the next day. James came through the portrait hole, and sort of stumbled over to me. I asked him if he was all right, but I was trying to study, so I didn't really notice when he didn't say anything. Then, all at once, he said 'She said yes,' and I looked up.

"'Who said yes, Prongs?' 'Evans. Lily Evans. We're going to Hogsmeade together next weekend.'

"Well, of course, all the Marauders were jealous as anything, but we rallied around. Your dad was like a zombie for the rest of the week, couldn't concentrate on anything, couldn't talk straight, could barely feed himself. Whenever Lily walked past in the Great Hall, he spilt whatever he was eating down his robes."

Sirius laughed. "I remember. It got so bad that I was lending him my stuff to wear by Thursday, and that was with the house elves doing our laundry every couple of days."

"Eventually, the Hogsmeade weekend came and we sent your dad off in the best clothes the four of us had between us. He looked very debonair, but being James he wanted to add something a bit extra."

"So he got hold of a bottle of Sleakeazy hair potion and plastered it all over his scalp so that his hair actually stayed flat for once."

Harry looked at the two friends, and began to get an idea of what was coming next.

"What did you do to it?" he asked. Sirius erupted in laughter, and Lupin grinned widely.

"Well, you have to understand Harry, we all liked your mum. We knew that she really liked James, and we didn't want to mess it up, but we had to do something to wind him up a bit."

Sirius nodded. "We put some Skele-Gro in with the hair stuff. We knew from experimenting that it made your hair grow like wildfire, so when James got down to Hogsmeade to meet Lily -still completely oblivious to pretty much anything but how nervous he's feeling- he didn't realise that he had about four foot of hair hanging down his back."

"And, of course, we'd sent him out in a shirt with a high collar, so he didn't feel it tickling his neck," Remus laughed.

"Of course, the last laugh was on us," Sirius said. "Next day, they're walking around like they've been together for ever, and Prongs had his hair back to normal."

"And then, three days later we wake up and find ourselves locked in our dormitory with our front teeth ten inches long and growing," Remus finished with a laugh. "James had a great many good qualities, but once you got him angry he usually found a way to get you back."

Sirius smiled, and stood up. "Anyway, despite a bit of a rocky start, your parents were married less than a year after finishing school," he said, serious once more. "They were perfect for each other, Harry. I'm not going to say that you and Ginny are as well matched, I don't know her well enough to say. But I will say that it is uncanny looking at the two of you. She could easily be Lily's sister, and you, of course, are the spitting image of your father. I hope that she is every bit as wonderful as her 'sister' was a few years ago."

"I think she is," Harry said, simply. 

Lupin rose, and stood by Sirius' side. "Then I imagine that the two of you will have every bit as interesting a time as your parents did," he said. "Things didn't end with hair and teeth, after all. However, much as I'd love to spend the day reminiscing over such pleasant memories, we must be off."

Sirius nodded, and Harry embraced the two older men.

"Remember, we're only an owl away," Sirius said, as the two stepped back. They drew their wands, and with a loud _crack_ they were gone.

Harry stood watching the river flow by for a few minutes, and turned on hearing someone approach. He turned, and smiled at Ginny who was stood watching him. He held out his hand, and she slipped her own into it. They stood together, watching the river in silence. Eventually Ron and Hermione came and joined them, and the four stood together until summoned in to lunch.

__

To be continued…


	4. Chapter Three: Diagon, Draco, Dead Eye

__

Author's note: Thanks to Nick Coghlan, Aggiebell, Sherbert79, goldenbb and Frantic for reviewing. For the record, the story is over 500 pages long and my beta and myself are only human. Mistakes will happen and my own idiosyncratic way of writing may seem a little odd at times. I beg your patience.

I have no excuses if the plot gets out of hand, of course…

****

Chapter Three: Diagon, Draco, Dead Eye

"I still can't believe I can do this whenever I want, even after all this time."

"All this time? Come on, Ginny. It's only been six months."

"I know, but I just spent so long wanting to be able to hold your hand. . ." Ginny blushed as she once more thought back to her time as Harry's number one fan. While she was still happy to claim that position for herself, she was no longer as shy or as quick to embarrass as she had been. She knew that the maturity forced upon her by events in her first year was at least partly responsible for the change. It was a change that she had long held mixed feelings about, and yet if it had brought her Harry Potter, who was she to complain?

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Hmmm? Sorry, Harry, what did you say?"

"You were looking pretty far away there. Thinking something nice, I hope?"

"I was thinking about you," she said.

"Thinking something nice?"

"Just thinking about how weird it is that we came to be together."

"Well, not really," Harry said, striking a pose of thoughtfulness. "I mean, look at how long Fred was chasing Angelina, and how long Ron liked Hermione. Persistence seems to be a Weasley trait."

"Not that, you idiot!" Ginny laughed. "I meant, if it weren't for Tom's diary, I'd probably still be that silly schoolgirl who couldn't look you in the eye."

Harry smiled, and squeezed her hand. "Something very good coming from something evil," he said. "But I think you'd have come out of your shell. You have it in you to do whatever you want, we all do. And I meant what I said earlier about your persistence. I'm sure you'd have won me over sooner or later."

"You could have told me that when I was eleven," she said. "It would have saved me a lot of heartache."

He grinned, and bent over to kiss the back of her hand. She shivered slightly, but smiled. "It was only a matter of time until I noticed you properly," he said, sitting up straight again.

"So what finally convinced you?" she asked. He sat in thought for some time, staring out over the crowd of people doing their shopping, his fingers moving idly against hers. Eventually, he spoke.

"Dumbledore," he said. "I went up to his office one day with Hagrid, and he said that I shouldn't worry about things I don't control. He made me realise that our being together would make us happier than our being apart, if I did the right things."

"Remind me to thank him," she said.

"He likes socks."

"I'll knit him a dozen pairs."

"You knit?"

"How do you think mum managed all those Weasley sweaters? She taught me when I was about four. I started off small, but by the time Fred and George went off to Hogwarts, I was almost able to do a whole one by myself."

Harry had a thought. "My first year at Hogwarts. . ."

"Did you like it?" Ginny asked. "I helped mum a lot with that one. I picked the wool. I wanted you to be wearing it when you came to visit that summer, so that mum could drop it into conversation."

"It, uh, got ripped up in the fight with Quirrell," Harry said, blushing a little. "I really liked it, though."

"It's okay," she said, amiably. "I'm glad you liked it." She looked at her watch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Harry snorted, but didn't say anything.

The two of them were sittting in Diagon Alley, outside Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. The remains of two large chocolate sundaes sat between them, eaten while they waited for Ron and Hermione to join them. 

"Maybe they dropped in on Fred and George?" Harry suggested.

"No, I asked Ron to wait so that we all went down together. Fred was so excited last night that we'd be dropping by. I can't wait to see what the shop looks like."

"Me either," Harry answered, remembering for the first time in a long time that he had given the twins the money to start their business. He was keen to see what sort of investments the twins had made. Certainly, if the sounds emerging from their bedroom at the Burrow were anything to go by, they'd been busy ever since they'd returned home from school.

Harry had felt rather worried that Mr and Mrs Weasley would have objected when they found out that the twins would be going in to jokes as a career, but they'd taken the news well.

"Well, we always suspected they didn't have the right temperament for the Ministry," Mr Weasley had said.

"Besides, I'm almost glad they're not going to be doing anything dangerous," Mrs Weasley added. She had looked at Percy and Mr Weasley nervously, something Harry had noticed her doing more and more often during his latest stay at the Burrow. Every report of increased Death Eater activity seemed to heighten the tension in the Weasley's home.

Harry shook his head, reminding himself that for today, at least, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about such things.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ginny asked, smiling at him as she gave his hand a slight squeeze. Harry smiled back at her, all thoughts of Death Eaters and the approaching conflict driven from his mind.

Today he was thinking only of his wonderful girlfriend, and how best to celebrate their having been together six months.

*

"Look, they'll appreciate the time alone. Besides, I really want to see the new Comet."

"Honestly, Ron, they're probably wondering where we've got to."

"I seriously doubt it. Remember how _we_ celebrated six months together?"

Hermione coloured a little, and allowed Ron to lead her towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. When they got there, she left Ron to drool over the Comet 320 -"with built in anti-nausea charm"- while she browsed listlessly through the selection of Quidditch books.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite Muggle born."

Hermione turned on her heel, already knowing whom she was going to come face to face with.

"Malfoy," she said shortly, staring directly into Draco Malfoy's cold, grey eyes.

"Having a good summer, I trust? I suppose you're staying with the Weasleys."

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, forcing politeness into her voice. "And you?"

"Well, my father is awaiting trial for suspected Death Eater activity. You could say that it makes it difficult to enjoy things."

"If you expect an apology-"

"From you? Hardly. And from Potter even less so. No, rest assured Granger, what I expect of you and your little circle of friends is worth much more than an apology."

And with that, Malfoy spun on his heel and stalked off through the crowd in the store. Hermione watched his blonde hair gleaming as he pushed through the bustle of Diagon Alley until he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

"Wonder what he meant by that?" Ron muttered. Hermione jumped.

"You heard that?" she said, turning to face him.

"Yeah, I was standing behind that display," he replied, pointing at a stack of half-price Nimbus 2001s. "I'd have stepped in if you'd needed help but, well, I don't think Malfoy would be a problem for you, Hermione. He must have just come in here to get a new broom and decided to try and put the wind up you."

"I doubt he was here for a new broom," Hermione said, feeling a little burst of pride at Ron's compliment. "His father's finances have been frozen, pending further investigation. He's as poor as any of us."

Ron snorted. "I don't reckon that the Malfoys know what poor means. Besides, all they'd have to do would be borrow some money from their mates."

"Maybe, but do you think that anyone would want to be caught helping a Death Eater?"

"Who cares? Why are we wasting time talking about Malfoy? Did you see the 320? It's fantastic-"

Hermione listened with half an ear as she thought about what Malfoy had said. Was he just trying to scare her, or did he really have something planned for the coming year at Hogwarts?

*

Harry finally gave in. It had been three years since he'd first seen the model, and now he was convinced. He still wanted it, and no matter how much it cost, it was going to be his.

He stood in Astronomical Astronomy, the shop run by Professor Sinistra's brother, and stared unmoving at the perfect working model of the galaxy. It shimmered gently in the darkened shop, and Harry was dimly aware of other wizards moving around, testing enchanted telescopes and comparing star charts.

"Back again, Mister Potter?"

Harry half turned, finding it a wrench to take his eyes away from the galaxy.

"Yes," he said, looking up at Saturn Sinistra with a faint smile. "I just need to be absolutely sure."

"I understand," Sinistra said, twirling one end of his heavily waxed moustache. "You know how it works, of course. Probably as well as I do, you like it so much."

"Can you show me again?" Harry asked, smiling self-consciously. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny sticking her tongue out at him.

"Of course," Sinistra said, tapping the model's cabinet with his wand and pulling the glass globe gently from within. "It is protected with an Unbreakable charm, of course, but sometimes I wonder what would happen if I shook it." He laughed, but Harry felt his stomach jump slightly, before he laughed too. As realistic as the model was, it was still just a model. Shaking it wouldn't affect the galaxy at all. But it was still hypnotising to watch.

Saturn Sinistra set the model down on his counter, and stared reverently at all. "How did you do with your O.W.L. last year?" he asked.

"Well, I got an A," Harry said. 

"A for Acceptable. Hmm. . . I understand that there was some problems with the test?" Saturn asked. Harry nodded, smiling at the memory.

"Peeves the poltergeist decided he wanted to liven things up. Because the exam is outside, Professor Sinistra couldn't protect the area with the spells used on the other exam rooms, so Peeves messed with all the telescopes. They all had fake stars painted on the inside of the lens in glitter. In the end, we had to have a theory exam, which nobody had really prepared for, so no-one did very well. Professor Sinistra was furious."

Saturn laughed loudly, disturbing two witches who were whispering back and forth about the latest Muggle space mission.

"Well, this will make sure you never have to take another Astronomy lesson," Saturn said. "Although if you tell my sister that, I shall deny having met you, Mr Potter."

He tapped the model with his wand, and said "Alpha Centauri." The view changed, and Harry stared at the star. 

"Sol." The view changed again, and Harry was looking at the solar system, with the sun and its nine planets. Harry could just make out the Earth, and its tiny moon. He sighed happily.

"How much is it?"

Saturn named a figure, and Harry nodded resignedly.

"You're sure, Mr Potter?"

Harry nodded again.

*

By the time the four friends had met up and started walking towards Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, Harry was grateful that Fred and George had offered to let them store their purchases in the back room. The galactic model on its own was far heavier than it had seemed in the shop, and Harry and Ron were now carrying it between them. Hermione had taken one look at it, and while impressed, had raised a pertinent question.

"How are you going to get it to school?"

Harry's face fell. He'd already be struggling to get everything in his trunk, what with all the new books he had to buy. Now he'd have the model as well, and it was well over eighteen inches across.

"I'll figure something out," he said, scowling at the thought of spending so much money on something he might not be able to use. He and Ron struggled up the steps of the twins' shop, and Harry backed into the door not looking where he was going as he walked unsteadily into the shop.

"LOOK OUT!" someone yelled. Harry felt something collide with the back of his head. His glasses went flying as the object burst against his head, leaving a thick powder coating his hair. He began coughing, his eyes streaming, his nose running. Someone took his end of the model, and he staggered backwards, strong hands claiming him and guiding him into a chair.

Dimly, he was aware of people rushing around the shop, but his eyes wouldn't clear long enough for him to see anything. He tried to speak, but his body was racked with a fresh coughing fit. When that calmed down, he began to sneeze.

"Hay Fever Hand Grenade," he heard someone say. "Gesundheit," the voice added as Harry sneezed loudly. "Newest thing. Fred decided to test it on me, but someone knocked his arm as he threw it."

Harry sneezed again, but he seemed to be getting over the worst of it. He could even see a little now, although without his glasses he couldn't make out much more than two redheaded blurs kneeling in front of him.

"Harry? Harry, it's me, Fred. Listen, sorry about that. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Harry, listen, this is very important, can you talk?"

"Bit," Harry wheezed.

"Good, that's great. Um, listen, do you think the dose was too strong? I mean, we don't want kids getting seriously h- OW!!"

Harry heard someone hitting someone else, Fred, by the sound of it, being the receiving party. Harry suspected that Ginny had been the one doing the hitting, in her mother's absence. He grinned weakly as his eyes finally stopped watering. He made a guess at the identity of the blurry person handing him his glasses from the colour of her hair.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"You're welcome. Fred saved your model, by the way," she added, as he put his glasses back on. "You may want to thank him. Or save him."

Harry looked to where Fred was standing, looking extremely cowed as Ginny ranted at him.

"Ginny," he said, rising shakily from the chair. "It's okay. It was an accident."

Ginny turned away from Fred, who took the opportunity to dart behind the shop counter and bang down the access hatch. 

"Someone could have been hurt, Harry," she stated, her cheeks glowing.

"But they weren't," he said softly. He hoped he could placate her. They were here in Diagon Alley to enjoy themselves, not start another Weasley argument. "And I think Fred and George have both learned their lesson, am I right?"

The twins chorused "Yes, Harry" and looked suitably contrite. Ginny scowled at them.

"They don't mean it for a second," she said, but the fire was gone. Harry exhaled, grateful that he had never been on the receiving end of Ginny's temper.

"We did mean it, Ginny," Fred said. George nodded vigorously. "Look, we'll have the testing area set up any day now, and then we won't have to do our research in the shop itself."

Ginny glowered briefly at the twins, but was calm again.

"Why don't you show us what you've been working on," Hermione suggested, diplomatically. George and Fred immediately perked up, and Fred dashed into the back room of the shop, reappearing a few seconds later with a tray bearing several interesting looking products. 

George flicked his wand at the sign on the shop door, which said "Off to lunch, cuties? Well, I'll be sure and let everyone know you'll be back soon. Don't be too long, now."

Ron grinned at his brother, who blushed, and mumbled something about the sign being a gift from Katie and Angelina. Fred saved his twin's blushes by coughing loudly, drawing attention back to himself and his tray. Harry knew that Fred was excited, sacrificing the opportunity to tease his twin in this way.

"Ton Tongue Toffee you all know," Fred declared. "This is its sister product: Babble Brain Bubblegum. George?"

George took a piece of the gum from Fred's hand and began chewing. After a minute, he blew a huge bubble, which Fred burst with a pin -"Sterilised, of course, we're very serious about hygiene at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes"- releasing a stream of unintelligible gibberish that echoed around the room until Fred waved his wand and yelled "_Finite Incantatem!_"

George spat the gum out and took the next item from the tray. Fred grinned.

"As my lovely assistant is unable to say anything but nonsense for the next ten minutes -not much of a change, I admit- I shall guide you through the rest of our new line.

"First we have Boomerang Spellbooks. We hope to market these to the educational market, a special charm ensuring that no matter how hard someone throws them, they always come back." Fred grinned. "Unless they know the special phrase that makes them stick to the ceiling. We devised them in honour of our great friend Mr Filch."

Harry and Ron laughed at the idea of the horrible Hogwarts caretaker trying in vain to remove the spellbooks from the ceiling of various classrooms at Hogwarts. Hermione looked torn between amusement and the desire to tell Fred and George off. Ginny, who apparently was sill yet to forgive her brothers, remained silent.

"Next we have the newest addition to the Half-and-Half range," Fred continued. "As with all previous Half-and-Half products, this converts any potion your unwitting victim has left untended into something quite useless. In this case, at George's suggestion, the entire potion will turn into that half melted sugar gunk you get in the bottom of your cup when you don't stir it properly."

George gave the others a thumbs up, and nodded his head appreciatively. Harry guessed that he had a fondness for that particular mixture.

"Next we have the Personal Disorganiser," Fred went on, throwing a look at Hermione. "This little baby tells you exactly where you can stick your homework, what you might want to do instead and suggests excuses for why you haven't done it. When the worst comes to the worst, and you absolutely have to do the work, it sits there and suggests helpful books that may help with the work. Of course, by the time it does that, the library will be shut, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

George waved his hands, emitted several nonsensical sentences, and then made out an hourglass figure in mid air.

"Oh, yes, and if you have a date, the Disorganiser will suggest chat up lines, decent places to go, and generally dispense the accumulated wisdom of its creators vast experience with the opposite sex."

"So it's useless for that as well?" Ginny said, smiling slightly.

"No catcalls from the cheap seats, thank you," Fred replied breezily. "Now, the piece de resistance of our new developments is this little beauty."

He reverently took a small object from the tray.

"It's a spoon," Hermione stated.

"Dear Hermione, so many brains, so little imagination," Fred replied, patting her patronisingly on the head. "No, okay, fair enough. It looks just like a spoon. But this is going to make us our fortune."

"How?" Ron asked, looking sceptical.

"Because, brother mine, this spoon is the Food Fight Four Thousand," George said in a hushed voice, apparently having recovered from the Babble Brain Bubblegum. "Load it up with the foodstuff of your choice and it will fire it with perfect accuracy at whoever you want it to hit."

"Anyone?" Ginny asked.

"How far can it throw?" Ron asked at the same time.

"How much can it throw?" Harry asked, a fraction of a second later.

"_Really _perfect accuracy?" Hermione asked, when the other three had finished.

Fred and George looked at one another, wide smiled on their faces. "Brother, I think we have a winner," Fred said. George nodded happily in reply.

"There are some limitations. It can do the length of the Great Hall easily, for instance, but it can't do anything bigger than a potato at the moment," Fred said.

"We're hoping to work our way upward to watermelons on later models," George added. "And if your target moves, well, you'll probably miss. We might be able to add a seeker charm to it later on, but we'll have to see how that affects the cost. We want every kid at Hogwarts to have one."

Hermione looked apprehensive. "It's really impressive," she said. "But it could be dangerous."

Fred shook his head. "No, it won't be. It won't throw anything solid, so T-bone steaks are right out. It's just gooey, messy stuff like mashed potatoes, trifle, blancmange, that sort of thing."

"Snowballs, too," Ginny said, suddenly.

"Ah, yes, very true," Fred agreed. "Actually, we're hoping to change the design a bit and re-launch it in November so that people will buy two."

Ginny looked at them sternly. 

"But we probably won't. That wouldn't be very morally correct, exploiting our customers by making them pay twice for the same thing. No, not at all. We're big on morals. Really!"

Ginny had turned away, apparently unable to stop herself from grinning.

In the end, George and Fred chose to placate Ginny by offering liberal discounts on their entire stock. Ron in particular seemed eager to spend his money, pointing out "There's a whole new crop of prefects this year. We can relax a bit and give them all the nasty jobs to do."

Hermione just shook her head, knowing that anything she said would turn into another session of bickering. She chose some Babble Brain Bubblegum "So that when you try and get me to help with your work this year, I'll just start chewing and you'll have to do it yourself."

"Before you ask, there's no antidote," George said.

"No refunds, either," Fred added quickly, scooping the shining pile of coins into the cash register, which shut with a satisfied-sounding snap.

"Now, we have real customers to serve," George said, indicating the swell of people inspecting the products on display in the shop window. "So, if you please, hop it and let us make some money.

"See you at dinner," he added cheerfully, as he shooed them from the shop. As the door closed on the new crop of customers, they could hear the enchanted sign flirting shamelessly with the twins.

*

Once again, the four friends had split into the two couples. Ron and Hermione had moved off in the direction of Flourish and Blotts, where Hermione was eager to search for the books on her reading list, plus anything that seemed remotely connected to her subjects. Ron was dragged at speed through the wizarding masses, at one point nearly dislocating his shoulder as Hermione orbited a vast warlock who was showing off a new amulet that he claimed protected him from all unwanted house callers, "Except for those chappies who sell double glazing," he added testily.

They saw Malfoy again, walking alone and sullen-looking, and pointedly ignoring Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode as the two girls called out to him.

"Seems like he's had a falling out with his pals," Ron said shortly, as he was led into the wizarding bookshop.

"Do you feel sorry for him?" Hermione asked, already distracted by the sheer volume of books on display. On a table nearby stood several autographed copies of Gilderoy Lockhart's _Magical Me_, which was on sale with sixty percent off.

"I can't believe they're still selling this rubbish," Ron said, scowling at the smiling, preening photograph of Lockhart that adorned the cover of each of the books.

"Well, they were very well researched, I suppose," Hermione said absently. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

"What, do I feel sorry for Malfoy? No. I reckon he'll be worse than normal this year, though. D'you reckon with his dad in jail that the other Slytherins have dumped him?"

Hermione didn't answer. While Ron was glaring at Lockhart, she had wandered off to talk to the manager about what books might compliment _Really Evilly Complicated Numbers: Why They're Not Just There To Cause You Hassle _which was apparently the sixth year Arithmancy set text. Ron took one last look at Lockhart, scowled, and went off to try and find a new book on the Chudley Cannons.

*

Harry and Ginny spun through the hall, their laughter trailing behind them as they danced. The orchestra played on for them alone, it seemed, the other dancers moving out of their way as they passed.

Neither pretended to be a great dancer, but they were having fun at the small tea dance that Harry had discovered was being held that afternoon. It was the first part of the surprise that he had arranged for Ginny, and he was relieved that she was enjoying it. In truth, he'd not put as much effort into the day as he'd hoped he would have done, but at times it had seemed like the summer holidays would last forever. It was only with a few days to go that Harry had suddenly awoken in the middle of the night and realised the importance behind a comment Hermione had made on their way to bed.

"I expect Harry will be busy in Diagon Alley this Friday?" she had said.

Harry had drifted off to sleep with the comment having barely registered, but when he had awakened in the depths of night, he knew immediately that he had only just averted a major catastrophe. With Ron's reluctant and rather tired help, he'd sketched out a number of things that he thought Ginny would enjoy, and used Fred and George to find out if any of them were possible. It was with great relief that he had learned of the tea dance, even if it normally was an event for older wizards.

Ginny eventually danced the two of them breathless, and deposited Harry on a basket chair. Summoning herself a footstool, she dropped on to it and grinned at him.

"This is wonderful," she said, her eyes gleaming. "How on earth did you find this place?"

"I have my ways," he replied, laughing. "But we really should do some shopping while we're here. Your mum will kill us both if we come back without new robes and our new books."

"I guess," she said. "But at least I don't have to get any new books this year. Following in my brothers' footsteps has its uses."

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. Well, you can help carry mine."

"Didn't we have this argument last year?" Ginny asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Argument? No. You dumped all the stuff on me and ran off. Not the last time I chased you that year, either."

"And now you've caught me, I suppose?"

"Well, yes," Harry said.

"Guess again, Potter," she said, and jumped up. Harry watched in disbelief as she sprinted out of the hall before struggling to his feet and trying to give chase.

*

Ron and Hermione were walking hand-in-hand through Diagon Alley, trailing a shopping trolley full of purchases behind them. They were quite oblivious to the outside world, bickering as they were over a new house directive that had been appended to their Hogwarts letters.

"Hermione, we can't start supervising Hogsmeade visits ourselves. That's teacher stuff."

"Ron, I don't believe you. Didn't we see last year that Hogsmeade can be attacked?"

"Which is why it shouldn't be up to us to defend it."

"Ron, you're just arguing because you want to spend all your time in Zonko's."

"Don't need to now, do I? Not with Fred and George running their own shop. Zonko's was always dead expensive anyway."

"You didn't say that last year when you were buying tha-"

Hermione's analysis of Ron's shopping list was interrupted by a red-haired blur dashing across the street just in front of them. The two managed to stay upright by sheer luck, and were greeted by Harry.

"I suppose you saw Ginny?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Where's she running off to?"

"I wish I knew," Harry replied. "There's something about Diagon Alley that makes her run away from me."

"Oh, well, in that case it doesn't matter where she's gone," Hermione grinned. "She'll be somewhere you'll have to work hard to get to, Harry. You'll just have to work hard to find her."

"I'm already working hard, Hermione," Harry protested, but Hermione just walked past, chuckling in a most unhelpful manner. Ron stopped only to give his friend a sympathetic shrug of the shoulders before following his girlfriend back among the crowds, shopping trolley in tow.

Harry frowned for a moment, thinking about whether he should follow Hermione's advice or act sensibly and wait someplace where Ginny would find him. He couldn't help but remember something Remus had said about dating the previous year: _A nice, complicated mess _was how Lupin had described the sort of situation he was in now. With a slight grimace, Harry turned his mind to trying to work out exactly where he might find Ginny, and how long she'd keep leading him on before she allowed him to find her.

*

In all, it was a little over an hour before he saw Ginny again, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's once more and enjoying another sundae with Ron and Hermione. He was sure that she hadn't been there when he'd passed by just minutes before, and yet she was already more than halfway through the mound of ice cream in her glass.

"Please don't do that again Ginny," he puffed, dropping heavily into a seat and wiping his sweat-drenched brow. Ginny laughed, and threw him a napkin.

"Out of shape, Harry?" Ron asked, with a wicked grin. "Better watch that, or I might have to drop you from the team."

"You can't drop the co-captain," Harry said, eyeing Ron's chocolate sundae enviously.

"Well, maybe not, but we're going to have to work really hard this year. You know we've got to replace five players? We should have advertised at the end of last term, but what with everything that was going on. . ."

"Yeah, well, we can ask around on the Express, can't we?" Harry said absently, looking around for Florean so that he could order himself an ice cream.

"Maybe, but did you know Seamus might not play this year?"

"What? But I was counting on him to be a Beater. He did really well against Hufflepuff last year."

"Yeah, but with Lee gone, the commentator's place is open, isn't it?" Ron pointed out. "You know what Seamus is like. He never shuts up, and he knows loads about Quidditch." Ron toyed idly with his spoon, before sliding his sundae away from him, but still just out of Harry's reach. 

Harry groaned, both from hunger and memory. Seamus and Ron's discussions about Quidditch had become the stuff of common room legend among Gryffindor students. The two could argue for hours without agreeing on a single point, and then the next morning they could start off again without missing a beat.

"Okay, okay, first day, on the train, we'll ask everyone to try out. The first is a Sunday, so we'll have lessons from the second to the sixth, and choose our new players on Saturday the seventh, yeah?"

Ron grinned. "Sounds good."

"Great. Now give me some of that ice cream before I chuck it at you."

Ron laughed, and pushed it across the table to a grateful Harry.

"You know, you don't have to wait until we're on the train to start asking people to try out," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. "I already saw Dean earlier, mentioned it to him. Dunno if he'd be interested, though."

"No, I mean you haven't asked us if we'll be trying out," Hermione said.

Ron laughed loudly, before Harry kicked him under the table. He tailed off, and looked incredulously at Hermione and Ginny.

"You're. . . You're serious?" he asked.

"Well, maybe not me, but Ginny's really good," Hermione said. Ginny, for her part, was blushing furiously and studying the inside of her sundae glass, apparently not listening to a word anyone was saying.

"Well-" Ron said, but the rest of her sentence was cut off by a pop of air as someone Apparated beside their table. The four friends watched in surprise as a short, balding man crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily. Harry slid off his chair and knelt beside the man, rolling him onto his side. The face looked a bit familiar to him, but he couldn't put a name to it. Ron joined him,

"That's old Dead Eye Diggle," he said, staring in surprise at the unconscious man.

"Who?"

"He's an old friend of dad's," Ron explained, rolling up his jumper and pushing it under Diggle's head. "His real name is Dedalus, Dedalus Diggle. He was an Auror, worked with Mad Eye Moody. Mad Eye and Dead Eye, right? Looks like he's been in a fight."

Harry looked closer at Dedalus' face, and saw Ron was right. One eye was swollen shut, and the other cheek was badly bruised. The older man's good eye flickered open.

"Wh. . . Where. . ?"

"Diagon Alley," Harry said, looking around for help.

"Close," Diggle said, thickly. "London, at least. Wand. Give me my wand."

Ron looked around, picked up Diggle's wand, and went to press it into his hand.

"Ron, wait," Hermione said, catching his hand. "How do we know-"

"Smart girl," Dedalus coughed. Harry leant back on his haunches as Dedalus was racked with a dreadful sounding coughing fit. "No time to argue though," he croaked, snatching his wand from Ron. With a hiss of imploding air, he was gone.

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione.

"Blimey, there's always something, isn't there?"

*

The door to the interrogation room swung open, and the ash blonde man sitting inside looked up. His expression was neutral as his usual interrogator walked stiffly into the room, his wooden leg clunking with ever second step.

"Good afternoon," the prisoner said evenly. "At least, I assume that it is the afternoon. I will admit that your efforts to wear me down have left me somewhat confused as to the exact time of day, but I am still fully aware of exactly who I am."

"Then you won't mind answering some more questions, Malfoy," Moody growled.

"I will of course assist you in any way that I can," Lucius Malfoy said. "As I have attested numerous times, however, I was placed under the Imperius curse while I was working for Voldemort. I have a particular susceptibility to that curse, as my family doctor will attest."

"I've seen the note on your file," Moody growled. "Signed the day that you donated five thousand Galleons to St Mungo's, I note."

"As I was there, I took the liberty of consulting him with regard to how large he felt my annual donation should be," Malfoy said calmly. "He is an old friend. If you are insinuating that I received anything for my donation, well, I will admit that Minister Fudge arranged for very good tickets for Narcissa, Draco and I at the World Cup final later that month, but I don't think you need concern yourself with that."

Moody glared at him. Malfoy stared evenly back.

"That'll do for now," Moody said, rising stiffly to his feet. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy."

"You or someone much like you, I've no doubt," Malfoy said, inclining his head slightly. "Still, where would I be without these little chats? Stuck in solitary confinement for twenty-three hours a day. I welcome your visits, Moody, you and the other interrogators. Until tomorrow."

Malfoy smirked as Moody clumped out of the room.

__

To be continued…


	5. Chapter Four: The Unashamed Romantic

**__**

Chapter Four: The Unashamed Romantic

The four of them spent the rest of the afternoon puzzling over Dedalus Diggle and his dramatic entrance and exit from their lives. Harry finally remembered where he had met the short wizard, in the Leaky Cauldron when he was shopping with Hagrid before his first year. Passing the back wall of the pub in Diagon Alley, Harry stared for a long time, wondering if Dedalus was perhaps inside, his wounds treated and his story being retold. Was that where his Apparation had nearly taken him to?

Ron had another theory.

"Listen, he was an Auror, right? Maybe he was doing some work for the Ministry again. They must be a bit shorthanded if they're sending people to Hogwarts this year."

"Maybe," Hermione said. "Dedalus might have been attacked by Voldemort's forces. Even if they've stopped attacking big targets, they've still been attacking homes. Do you remember what Lavender said? Eloise Midgen's home was attacked a couple of days before Harry's birthday. Eloise said that there were wizards waiting for the ones who attacked. Do you think the Ministry would put people on the look out for things like that? They're trying very hard to pretend nothing unusual is happening. They didn't make any response to the second Hogsmeade attack, and there weren't any Aurors there the second time. The attack at Christmas was supposed to have been foiled by some Aurors who were shopping in Hogsmeade, but ever since then, the Ministry has been trying to sweep it all under the carpet."

Harry, Ron and Ginny all blinked several times as Hermione paused to draw breath. As usual, when Hermione had something on her mind, she spoke quickly and without pause. Slowly, Ron worked his way through what she had said.

"Okay, I have no idea what you just said," he declared eventually.

Hermione looked a touch exasperated, but nodded.

"Okay, the Ministry won't sanction any action regarding Voldemort. Anything involving his forces isn't really to do with him, and if the Ministry intervenes they don't own up to it. So for several wizards who are powerful enough to fight Death Eaters, or even just to fight wizards who have gone bad, well, for them to have been at Eloise Midgen's house on the night it was attacked points to two things. Either the Ministry is really fighting Voldemort in secret-"

"Or someone else is," Ginny finished for her. Hermione nodded.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"I think so," Hermione said. "Percy and Mr Weasley must be telling someone the information they're getting out of the Ministry."

Harry looked around, feeling very glad for the Privacy Charm that Hermione had cast around their table in the restaurant.

"And we know that Dumbledore was great mates with Mad Eye Moody," Ron said, slowly.

"And Eloise reckons he was one of the ones who saved her family," Hermione said.

"And it's all being done in secret?" Harry said.

"It must be," Ginny replied. "We haven't heard a word about this, and we've been around Percy and dad all summer. We knew they were getting information, but we never knew what they were doing with it."

"Never really thought about it," Ron said, blushing slightly. "Sometimes mum has this way of saying we shouldn't nose into stuff, so we don't."

"Maybe she's put you under the Imperius curse," Harry said with a grin. Hermione looked scandalised.

"Harry! You shouldn't say things like that, not even as a joke."

"It's okay," Ron said quietly. "No, it's not that kind of thing, it's just you can tell when mum gets really worried about stuff."

"And she's really worried about Percy and dad. Bill and Charlie too," Ginny said, staring unhappily out of the window. 

"She hasn't shown it," Harry said, wishing he could help Mrs Weasley.

"You need to have been around her your whole life," Ron said. "I mean, don't get me wrong mate, you're family and all. . . But this is a Weasley thing. You shouldn't worry about it. You've got enough on your plate."

"Of course we're worried," Hermione said, speaking for herself and Harry. "Maybe we don't know your mum as well as you do, but she's still really special to us. If there's anything we can do to help, we will, you know that? Not just her, or you two, but any of your family."

Harry nodded his assent. Ron sagged in his chair, and when he spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse.

"You two are the best mates anyone could have, you know that?" he said.

*

Harry and Ginny took their leave shortly afterwards. Harry had promised that they would be back at the Burrow by nine o'clock, and he wanted the two couples to have as much of the time as possible to themselves. He and Ginny walked silently through the thinning throng of wizards and witches who were winding up their day of shopping. The sign hanging on the door of Quality Quidditch Supplies turned itself from Open to Closed as they passed.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, as Harry guided her down a small alleyway.

"You'll see," he replied, smiling in the darkness. "Fred reckons you never got to come here when you were kids. He reckons you always wanted to see different films."

"We're going to the cinema?" Ginny asked, her voice rising a notch.

"Yep. We're going to see one of my favourite films. I saw it at the Dursleys a couple of years ago when they went off for Dudley's birthday."

"What's it called?"

"The Princess Bride."

"I like it."

"You've seen it?"

"No, but if the Princess gets married, it has to be good."

Harry grinned again. "We'll see."

*

The film over, they hurried out of the cinema, chattering merrily about giants, finest swordsmen, six fingered men and True Love. Ginny glanced at her watch, and then looked again, gasping.

"We've got fifteen minutes to get back home, or mum will have a fit." She grabbed Harry's hand, and started running.

"Thank goodness George and Fred took our stuff with them," she panted, as they dodged around two elderly witches.

They dashed back towards the Leaky Cauldron, twisting and turning through the complicated network of streets and alleyways that honeycombed the densely packed wizarding area of London.

They slammed into the Leaky Cauldron with a minute to spare, and pulled up in dismay at the sight of several people all queuing to use the fireplace.

"Harry, over here."

Harry turned, and smiled as he recognised Cho Chang standing by a much smaller fireplace. She was with a dark skinned boy Harry vaguely recognised as another member of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

"Hi Cho," he said, walking over to her with a smile.

"You wanted to use the fire?" she asked, nodding at the queue. "We've got a fireplace here. The barman said we could use it, as we don't have any bags with us."

Harry glanced at the queue. Sure enough, each member was heavily laden with shopping, whereas Cho and her friend were empty handed.

__

Almost, Harry thought. _She's holding hands with him._

"Ginny," the boy said, nodding at Ginny.

"Michael," Ginny replied, neutrally. Harry glanced at her, but her face showed no emotion.

"Listen, do you have to get back?" Cho asked. "We don't mind if you go ahead of us, do we?" she asked Michael. He shook his head, raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it.

"No," that's fine," he said. "I wanted to say goodnight. . ."

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. What Michael had said reminded him of Cedric Diggory. Cedric had said almost the exact same thing the night of the Yule Ball, two years before.

"That's really good of you," Harry said. "Ginny's mum will have a fit if we get home late."

"My mum's the same," Cho said, with a sympathetic grin at Ginny. "Well, you'd best be off. See you in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, see you," Harry said. Ginny nodded to the two Ravenclaws as she and Harry took their pinches of Floo Powder. She stepped into the magical flames, threw her powder, and vanished with a bark of "The Burrow!"

"Well, bye," Harry said, glancing at Cho and Michael, who didn't seem to be listening. They certainly looked busy enough.

"The Burrow!" he yelled, throwing down his powder, and taking a deep breath. He endured the familiar spinning sensation, throwing out his arms when he saw a cluster of red heads sat around a familiar looking table.

He staggered out of the flames, grabbing Hermione's hand to stop himself going over. He shared a Muggle-raised smile with his friend as she pulled him upright, the Weasley family barely even noticing his arrival. Mr Weasley didn't even look up from his paper, but said, "Five minutes late, Harry."

"Er, yes sir," Harry stammered. "We bumped into some friends and-"

"Just as well I put the clock back by seven minutes, isn't it?" Mr Weasley said with a wink. Harry grinned, and walked into the kitchen to hang up his cloak.

"Harry dear, and right on time, too," Mrs Weasley said. "Here are, dear, give me your cloak. There's tea in the pot. Ginny's getting herself a cup now."

Harry handed over his cloak, and watched Molly bustle off into the front room, leaving him and Ginny alone.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as she sipped her tea.

"Of course," she said with a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed a bit. . . I don't know, off centre at the Leaky Cauldron? Do you know that Michael bloke?"

She stared into her cup for a long moment.

"His name is Michael Corner," she said. "We used to go out."

Harry sat down. "I didn't know that," he said, pouring himself some tea. The spout of the teapot rattled slightly against the lip of the cup. He stared carefully at the cup, careful not to look up in case he did something he might regret. 

"Well, we didn't really go out. Not like you and I do," she said. "We met at the Yule Ball, when I went with Neville. He's in Ravenclaw, so I didn't know him, and when he asked me to dance, well, I thought it might be nice to have one dance with someone who wouldn't tread on my toes- It's not funny!"

"Sorry," Harry said, hiding a grin behind the rim of his cup.

"Anyway, he was nice, and we talked a lot that night. The next day he sent me a rose from the gardens and asked if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him. I asked Hermione, and she suggested that we went as a group of friends, so we did. Michael and I, Cho and Cedric, and a lot of others went together.

"We met occasionally after that, and he didn't push, but after Easter he asked me out again. We went out a few times, but I just didn't like him as a boyfriend, so I broke up with him. He didn't take it very well."

Harry looked concerned, but Ginny waved at him to let her finish.

"He wasn't nasty or anything, but he was a bit rude, and he said he didn't want to be friends with me, so I didn't speak to him again after that."

"Well, I can't really say that I'm sorry that he didn't measure up as a boyfriend," Harry said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Does Ron know?" he asked. Ginny snorted.

"Ron wasn't exactly ecstatic when I started seeing you, remember? That was a year later."

"That's what I thought," Harry replied. "He told Dean you were too young to start dating last summer."

"He didn't! Dean Thomas? I don't believe him!"

"Okay, so Michael Corner wasn't boyfriend material, but apparently Dean Thomas is?" Harry laughed, but felt a faint twinge of jealousy.

Ginny smiled ruefully.

"Okay, fine, when I was having one of my Get-Over-Harry-Potter spells, I did wonder what Dean would be like to go out with. He's an artist, and he's always so polite-"

"I'm polite!"

"-and he just has the nicest eyes. . ." Ginny trailed off, her own eyes sparkling. Harry smiled.

"Well, if you do dump me for my room mate, then I'm bound by the rules of friendship to tell him all about you."

"Oh yes?" Ginny smiled.

"Yeah, like how you snore when you sleep. . ."

"How would you know? You've never slept in the same room as me. And I don't snore."

Harry grinned. "I'd have to tell him where you're ticklish, too."

"You don't know where I'm ticklish."

"Sure I do. George told me."

With that, he dived at her, fingers wriggling as they made contact with her stomach. She squealed, and toppled off her chair, and he fell on top of her, the resulting laughter, screams and yells fully drowning out the noise that Fred and George were making in the sitting room.

Harry and Ginny grappled for a few more seconds until they ran out of breath. They grinned madly at one another, their gazes locked together. Harry felt his heart skip as he stared into Ginny's bright brown eyes.

Then Mrs Weasley coughed.

"Bit of an accident, dears?" she asked, grabbing the back of Harry's collar and pulling him easily to his feet. He watched Mr Weasley helping Ginny to her feet, her cheeks a furnace red colour. He tried to avoid Mrs Weasley's eye, and caught sight of Charlie, Ron, Fred and George all crying silently with laughter as they struggled to stay on their feet in the narrow hallway. Behind them stood Hermione, the look on her face a typically knowing one as she looked from Harry to Ginny and back again.

*

Ron and Hermione chose a moonlit walk over spending more time around Charlie and the twins. Mrs Weasley had politely suggested that Ginny and Harry tell the family all about their day in Diagon Alley and, as Ron put it, "A polite suggestion from mum is like a signed order from the Minister for Magic."

The couple walked hand in hand by the side of the river. They were silent, merely enjoying each others presence after their hectic day.

"Harry says Cho Chang has a new boyfriend," Hermione said eventually. "Another Ravenclaw called Michael Corner."

Ron Hmmm'd non-comittaly.

"Do you know him at all? I think he's on their Quidditch team."

"Other than that he went out with Ginny a few times? No."

Hermione stopped in mid step, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"You knew about that?"

Ron nodded coolly. "She told me. We were discussing Harry one day a couple of months ago, and she let slip that he wasn't the first bloke she'd been out with. She made me promise not to talk about it, because she wasn't sure how Harry would react."

"Did Fred and George know?"

Ron shook his head. "No. No point in giving this Corner bloke hassle when nothing happened."

"You don't mind that she was seeing someone and didn't tell you?"

Ron shook his head. "No, she's her own person. I realised that. Eventually. Besides, it was probably a good thing," he said.

"A good thing?" 

"Yep. Ginny needed to get over Harry."

"And you think that dating Michael Corner was a good way for her to do that?"

"Yep."

"You didn't feel this way this time last year," Hermione pointed out.

"You mean when I warned off Dean?"

Hermione nodded. Ron sat down, and trailed his hand in the river.

"Well, Dean. . . I just didn't like the idea of my roommate dating my sister. It'd be like, every time I saw him, I'd be wondering whether they'd just been snogging. So I told him that she was too young, and I brought Fred and George into the conversation. Dean scarpered pretty sharpish."

"So it was one part concerned big brother-"

"And one part over-concerned big brother. Yeah." Ron grinned. "Still, I reckon you and my little sister cured me of that last year. Besides, Dean's happy enough now. Did you hear who he's going out with now?"

"No. Who?"

"Hannah Abbott."

"That's nice," Hermione said. "It's good that people have someone to go to when they need to be, well, themselves."

Ron grinned. "So I can be horrible and insensitive and overprotective and rude and you'll still like me?"

"I will, if you like me when I'm bossy and overbearing and argumentative and keep bothering you about homework."

Ron shook his hand dry, and twined his fingers with Hermione's.

"I wouldn't have you any other way."

*

Harry and Ginny eventually escaped the close watch of the Weasleys and were sitting under an old oak tree behind the house. Harry had his arms around Ginny, and was laughing quietly about their earlier embarrassment.

The two settled into silence for a time, until Ginny spoke up.

"Harry," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Do you mind that I dated someone before you?"

Harry blinked. "Mind? Why would I mind?"

"Well, I don't know."

Harry paused, absently hugging Ginny a little tighter as he thought.

"I was a little surprised," he said at length. "It didn't really occur to me that you might have dated someone before me, but there's no reason why you shouldn't have. It doesn't bother me at all."

Ginny sat quietly, and Harry assumed that the matter was closed. Then she spoke up again.

"Does it bother you that he's dating Cho Chang now?"

"No," Harry said immediately. "Look, I know that pretty much everyone knew that I liked Cho, I mean, I never made it that big a secret, and asking her to the Yule Ball in front of all her mates didn't exactly help, but after. . ." His voice tailed off. Even after more than a year, it was still painful to talk about Cedric Diggory's death.

"After the final task, I couldn't look at her the same way," he said. "I think I just realised that whatever I felt for her was because she was pretty, and she was nice to me. I didn't really know her, and after everything that happened, I couldn't really see a way to get to know her very well. Maybe I'll get the chance this year."

"I think she'd like that," Ginny said. "She's really nice."

"So are you," Harry said. They sat in silence for a while longer. This time it was Harry who broke it.

"Would you really try out for the Quidditch team this year?" he asked.

"I would, but I don't have a broom," she said. "I suppose I could try and get Fred or George to lend me theirs, but they'd probably say they need them to go see Angelina or whoever George starts dating next."

Harry thought for a few minutes in silence, then stood up.

"I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

He went into the house. Ginny watched him through the kitchen window, first dipping into the front room, then leading Fred, George and Charlie up the stairs. A few minutes later they returned, all trooping out of the house. They gathered around Ginny, looking very serious for a second.

"Harry says you might try out for the team this year," Charlie said seriously.

"You realise that there'd be a lot of pressure on you?" Fred asked.

"The Weasley name is a proud name when it comes to Hogwarts Quidditch," George said. "Four players, five Quidditch Cups. You'd have to be good."

Ginny nodded silently, staring upwards at the four stern faces from where she was sitting at the foot of the tree.

"In that case, you'd best take this," Harry said, laying something at her feet.

Ginny looked down, her eyes tracing the graceful lines, the polished handle, the finely tuned bristles of Harry's Firebolt.

"What. . ?"

"We're going to judge you," Fred said. "Ron too, when he gets here. If we think you're good enough, we'll all chip in some money and get you a decent broom, okay?"

Ginny blinked. "Really?"

"Really," Harry grinned. "I'd say 'happy anniversary' but I don't think that this is going to be a very fond memory."

"Too right," Fred said sternly. "You'll have to be very good, Miss Weasley. Now, what position do you play?"

"Chaser," Ginny said automatically.

"Good choice," George nodded, sharing a glance with his brothers. "No legacy to live up to."

"What's going on?" Ron and Hermione had returned from their walk and joined the crowd around Ginny. Charlie filled them in on the terms of the agreement.

"How are we going to test her?" Ron asked, immediately becoming as intense as his brothers were now that Quidditch was being discussed.

"Well, if she wants to be a Chaser, she'll need to be able to avoid Bludgers and tackles, and still be able to shoot goals as well," George said.

"Excuse me," Ginny said, standing up. "I have a name."

"Yeah. Candidate Weasley," Fred said dismissively. "Now be quiet a minute, Ginny. We have to decide how we'll do this."

"Is this how you treat everyone who tries out?" Ginny hissed at Harry. He shrugged.

"No. Is it how they treat you normally?"

Ginny's mouth drew into a thin, tight line, her jaw set firm and determined. She glared at her brothers, and Harry suspected she was taking a private vow to pay them back for belittling her.

*

In the end, Ron suggested an obstacle course set up by Charlie, Fred and George, all of whom were of age and so could use magic. The course was set up in the orchard, and Ginny was sitting nervously on the Firebolt at the start, a Quaffle in her hand. Along the way, Ron, Charlie, Fred and George were lined up on their brooms, while Harry and Hermione sat at the end of the course, hovering on Bill's ancient Cleansweep Three. Harry was holding a hoop the size of a goal ring in his hand, while Hermione sported a whistle and stopwatch. Nodding at Ron, she raised the whistle to her lips, and blew.

Ginny accelerated forwards. Harry squinted hard to try and make out her expression, but her face gave nothing away. She twisted the Firebolt easily through the dense thicket of apple trees that made up the first part of her course, not once touching any of them. With a burst of acceleration, she swung up and over Charlie's trap, a fiery lasso that for a second seemed certain to ensnare her. Harry and Hermione gasped at the same instant, and relaxed only slightly as Ginny moved towards Fred.

Fred was struggling to hold onto a Bludger that Charlie had enchanted for the challenge. As Ginny neared, he released it and swung his Beater bat at it, connecting with skill born of years of practise. The Bludger flew directly at Ginny who for an instant slowed, and then threw herself flat backwards on her broom, the Bludger passing harmlessly over her.

In an instant Ginny was upright once more and speeding toward George, who was holding what looked like a length of steel pipe. He swung directly at Ginny, but his sister tucked herself around the Quaffle and grabbed the pipe as George halted his swing. She whirled around the pipe, pivoting on it so that she came out of the spin pointing at George, who had barely a second to react.

But react he did, dropping the pipe and throwing himself sideways on his broom, one leg hooked around the handle so that he ended up hanging upside down, unable to haul himself back upright. Ginny sped onwards towards Harry and Hermione, her expression intent on the hoop.

It was at that moment that Ron dropped smoothly into her path, his expression neutral as he placed himself just in front of Harry's hoop. A scowl flickered across Ginny's features as she swerved to avoid her brother, but she swiftly turned back on the offensive, feinting left before twisting into a spiral that took her high and right.

Ron didn't even blink, just moved slightly right to continue covering the hoop. Ginny hovered just outside his reach for a few seconds, evidently weighing up her chances of scoring in a single hoop protected by a competent keeper. She hung in mid air for almost a full minute, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on her brother. Ron gave nothing away, no indication as to which way he would go, or which way he hoped Ginny would go.

Then, without warning, Ginny pulled the nose of the Firebolt up, turned, and sped away from the hoop. Harry looked after her, mild confusion melting away in the face of the absolute certainty of Ginny's next move.

"Hold on tight," he murmured, his voice barely reaching Hermione and certainly not loud enough for Ron to hear.

"Oh," Hermione replied, apparently having come to the same conclusion that Harry had. She looped the string of the whistle around her hand and grabbed Harry's T-shirt tightly.

Ginny turned at the end of the orchard, the Firebolt halting for a fraction of a second before she leaned forward and accelerated back towards Ron and the goalhoop. She was doubled over as far as she could manage, the Quaffle, as far as Harry could tell, held between her knees like a plane with a bomb attached.

She passed the middle of the orchard, her eyes still fixed on Ron, the Firebolt still accelerating beneath her. Harry glanced at Ron, and could see a flicker of apprehension cross his best friend's features for the first time since Ginny's trial began.

Harry looked back at Ginny, and reflexively shut his eyes. The sound of the impact was followed an instant later by a jolt as the hoop was torn from his hands. He opened his eyes and grabbed at the handle of the Cleansweep Three, fighting to bring it under control as Hermione clung grimly to his shirt. He didn't have the time or the breath to tell her she was choking him, so he pointed the broom at the ground where he could see Ron and Ginny grappling frantically, both tugging at the Quaffle as they knelt on the ground.

Suddenly Ginny went limp, and Ron pulled the Quaffle too sharply. It slammed into his chin, sending him sprawling. Ginny yelled in triumph as Hermione squeaked in fear. Ginny snatched up the Quaffle and shoved it through the goalhoop, which had fallen from Harry's hands and was lying against a tree root.

Harry and Hermione came to ground in time for Ron to struggle upright and scowl briefly at Ginny as she ran up to Harry and wrapped her arms around him excitedly. Hermione rushed over to Ron and inspected his jaw, clucking her tongue worriedly. Ginny slowly released herself from Harry as Fred, George and Charlie swooped in to land by the four teenagers.

"Did she get it?" Charlie asked, glancing cursorily at Ron.

"She did," he replied, wincing as his jaw moved.

"Hold still," Hermione said clinically. "I don't think it's broken. Just bruised."

"Ginny," Ron winced. "Listen, I just wanted to say. . ." he tailed off as Hermione forced his mouth shut as she probed the rapidly growing bruise. When she eventually let go, he turned to his sister.

"You were brilliant up there. If I'd had more than one goal to keep, you'd have had me easily."

"Here, here!" Charlie and the twins chorused. Ginny grinned broadly.

__

To be continued…


	6. Chapter Five: The Maybe Chaser

**__**

Chapter Five: The Maybe Chaser

Hermione had been delighted that Ginny had passed her brothers tests.

"Now you'll have to get yourself a broom," she said. "And if you take Ron shopping with you, you'll spend all day in Quality Quidditch Supplies. I can finally get some homework done without him bothering me all the time."

Ron grinned. "You didn't seem to mind me bothering you before now."

"We only have two weeks before school starts," Hermione went on, ignoring him. "I can't imagine how much time I've lost already. I'm going to be so very far behind."

"How can you be behind if term hasn't started yet?"

"Ron, this is the year we begin studying for our N.E.W.Ts," Hermione said, patiently. "We should already be working with our set books so that we can start the additional reading when we get to school."

"Mental," Ron said quietly, shaking his head as Hermione started hunting for her spare quill.

*

For the second time that summer, Harry found himself in Diagon Alley, wandering happily among the crowded magical shops. Charlie walked with Ron behind Harry and Ginny, who held hands easily, the teasing that the Weasleys had subjected them to long since having grown old.

"Here we are," Harry said.

"I still can't believe you're doing this," Ginny said.

"Well we are," Harry said.

"Besides, if Fred and George don't start spending that money soon, it'll all go back into developing even more dangerous jokes," Charlie said. "Filch would never forgive us."

Ginny stopped in the doorway of the shop. "Well, maybe I can wait for a new broom if the alternative is Filch going mad."

Ron grabbed her shoulders and propelled her forwards. "Come on. Besides, I'm dying for a chance to try it out. I never got a free broom when I got on the team."

"No, but you're a Keeper, little brother," Charlie said. "That's why you got stuck with the Cleansweep Five. Besides, you got new dress robes last year."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. "Don't worry, Gin. I won't make a fuss. I'll just nick your broom when you're not looking."

"You're welcome to try," Ginny smiled, as the shop owner greeted them. "But I'll get Hermione to put an anti-theft charm on it."

"Do you think she will?" Ron asked Harry, as Ginny starting looking at brooms.

"Probably," Harry said, looking at a display of Firebolts. "And I don't reckon you'll get Hermione to tell you the counter spell, either."

"Probably not," Ron said. "Still, Charlie's right. I don't need anything better than my Cleansweep to get around the goals. Ginny needs the broom, really."

"Well, yeah, otherwise she'll need to be really be good with flying charms," Harry smiled.

"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, but you're being mature. And reasonable, too. It's weird."

"I'm allowed to be mature," Ron grinned. "So long as Hermione isn't around. Imagine if she caught me being all grown up. She'd actually want me to do Prefect stuff next."

The two friends shared a smile at that idea.

*

Ginny was getting frustrated. She'd asked Harry how it had felt when he'd first flown, and he'd told her that it was the first time he'd felt he was really a wizard.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved being at Hogwarts, but everyone seemed to think I'd be really special, that I'd be casting spells as easy as breathing. Of course, I couldn't. I barely knew one end of a wand from the other. But that first time on a broom, even if it was just one of those Cleveland Trainer ones, well, I just knew I could do anything."

Which was pretty much how Ginny wanted to feel about her new broom, but none of them had felt quite right. In desperation, she'd grabbed one of the Firebolts, but that hadn't felt right either. She scowled at the expensive broom, half-tempted to try out its supposed diamond hard covering by smashing it against something.

__

Something hard. Like Ron's head. . .

He wasn't helping. First he'd gone on about not getting a new broom himself. She rather thought that he'd been joking, as he'd been laughing a minute later but it had made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Any new broom cost a lot of money, and she still wasn't entirely happy about her brothers and Harry spending so much on her.

She looked around the shop once more, practically daring Ron to say something when their eyes met. Ron kept silent, however, and instead Ginny moved her attention to the frazzled looking shopkeeper, Radsgabbet King, himself a former Chaser at Hogwarts. She softened her expression when he flinched, but the Weasley temper was still bubbling beneath the surface.

__

It's so stupid. It's only a broom. Why am I getting so worked up about this?

"You've seen pretty much everything we have, Miss Weasley," King said, almost on the verge of tears. "I'm afraid brooms aren't like wands. One is really as good as the other most of the time."

"There has to be one," Ginny said stubbornly. "Haven't you got anything else?"

"All we have left is the second hand brooms," King said. "They're in terrible condition, some of them."

"Okay," Ginny sighed. "Let's see them."

King pulled a box from under the counter, and he and Charlie hefted it onto a table. Ginny sorted dispiritedly through the brooms with their split handles, the lost twigs hovering feebly a few millimetres above the bottom of the box and the miscellaneous used equipment that the truly desperate had pawned in search of a few extra Sickles. She was seriously considering letting the Weasley temper take hold once more and dashing the box and its useless contents to the floor when she felt it.

__

What's that?

Ginny held firmly to the handle of the broom as she lifted it from the box. She recognised the make, an Arrowhead, and even that it was quite an old broom, five or six years old. But it was right. It was the broom she wanted. Her new broom. 

__

My new, old broom. This has seen a lot of use.

"Ginny, can I have a look?" Harry asked. She handed him the broom reluctantly, as though worried that having someone else touch it would spoil what she felt.

__

I'm going to do fine with that broom.

"I thought so," Harry murmured. "Excuse me," he asked King. "Do you know who sold this broom?"

"It was a girl, just left school, I think. She said she needed money for something or other."

Harry smiled, and turned to Ginny. He passed the broom back and she smiled as she took it. It still felt right. She knew she was being silly, but at the same time, she saw the look on Harry's face whenever he had his Firebolt in his hands.

"That's Alicia Spinnet's broom," Harry said. Ginny looked blank for a second, and then grinned even wider.

"Perfect for a Chaser," Ron said, cuffing Ginny lightly on the shoulder.

"Yes, very much so, I flew an Arrowhead when I was at Hogwarts. Can you pay and leave now please?" Radsgabbet asked.

"Shouldn't Ginny buy some protective equipment as well? It's a rough game, is Quidditch. Especially when we play the Slytherins," Ron said.

"I shall give you a full set of equipment in Miss Weasley's size if you just leave. Please," he added desperate to get the Weasleys out of his shop and out of his hair. The man looked to Harry as though he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

*

The door slammed decisively behind them as they walked out of the shop, Ginny's carefully wrapped broom under her arm and Ron and Harry struggling to see over the tops of the piles of free gifts Radsgabbet King had insisted on them taking away with them.

"I thought it was really nice, the way he dug around out back trying to find that set of enchanted Bludgers," said Charlie, looking through _The Chasers Chapters: A Complete Chronology Of Those Who Score._ Harry and Ron, meanwhile, muttered something from behind their loads, but Ginny didn't notice. She had her broom, she had her broom, she had her broom!

Of course, she still had to get on the team.

*

Ginny was pushing hard, as she had done for the last several days. Harry watched with a smile as she swept through the orchard, weaving tightly around the trunks of the tall trees. He waited, hovering above the ground, his hand out and ready for Ginny to slap it and set him off on his dash through the orchard to find Ron, who would then find Ginny, who would again find Harry. . .

It was the same drill they had followed since Ginny had unwrapped her Arrowhead and insisted on a training session before dinner that evening. Harry was beginning to wonder what sort of monster they had unleashed. Ginny clearly wanted to get onto the Quidditch team badly enough to put it above anything else.

__

Even me.

No, you're being stupid. You ignored her for four years. You put almost anything else first. You even spent time with Colin Creevey, which must have been a huge slap in the face for her. Don't go getting jealous now that she's trying out for the team. It just means you'll get even more time together once she gets on the team.

Harry grinned at that idea and stretched his hand out even further, just catching Ginny's fingers as she sped past. _Her accuracy isn't bad_, he thought. _All this practise will help her get to perfect, though. We're certainly doing enough of it._

*

Ginny scowled as she slowed to a halt on her Arrowhead. She'd nearly missed Harry's hand that time. She should really slow down, take a break.

Then she squinted out over the length of the orchard and watched Harry clap Ron's hand, slewing to a precise halt almost instantly as he used Ron's acceleration to counter the Firebolt's speed.

__

I'm going to be as good a flyer as Harry. I'll just have to practise harder.

*

Hermione sat at the foot of one of the orchard's apple trees, absently noting times on a pad of paper as Harry, Ginny and Ron continued their sprint training. She was halfway through a commercially available biography of Merlin and King Arthur, which she was using to brush up on the legend before delving into the much more arcane volumes that sat beside her.

It was pleasant, sitting in the shadow of the great apple tree that spread out above her. The orchard was almost silent, except for the distant bird song and the occasional slap of hand on hand. A cool breeze was teasing her hair slightly, and the gnarled tree root by her side was the perfect shape to hold a jug of chilled pumpkin juice for when the flyers got thirsty. She glanced up, and smiled as Ron whizzed overhead, his expression intent as he jinked and juked his broom through the trees between himself and Ginny.

All in all, Hermione was relaxed, content, and very glad to be there.

*

Ron slapped his sister's hand, hauling hard upwards on his broomstick to avoid slamming into a huge beech tree. He turned his broom slowly, watching Ginny speeding off towards Harry, and dragged a sweaty forearm across his also sweaty forehead.

Beneath his breath, he muttered something that would have offended Hermione. He pulled a flask from his pocket and took several long swallows of water. When he was feeling slightly less dehydrated, he slipped the flask back in his pocket and watched Ginny twist and turn through the trees. Once or twice, he noticed, she came close to hitting a tree, and Ron knew that the long practises were tiring her as much as they were him, if not more so.

Glancing at Harry, he noticed that his friend was watching Ginny with concern etched on his features as well. 

__

Time to end today's practise, before mum comes out and has a go at me for giving Ginny heat-stroke or something.

Ron pulled his whistle from his pocket, and blew sharply on it, just as Ginny slapped Harry's hand. Leaning forward on his broom, he flew steadily towards the other two, and came to a halt beside them.

"Practise is over for today," he said, blinking beads of sweat from his eyes.

"It's only three o'clock," Ginny protested.

"We've been pushing too hard for too long. I'm going to fall off my broom in a minute," Ron said, angling downwards towards where Hermione sat reading.

"Well, we can carry on, right Harry?"

"I think Ron's got a point," Harry said. "An afternoon off won't hurt. We can go for a swim or something."

"But I need to practise!"

"Come off it Ginny," Ron said. "You've been getting plenty of practise. We all have." He set down lightly beside Hermione and smiled at her as he picked up the jug of pumpkin juice. He took a long draft, and then passed it to Harry.

"But if I don't get on the team, all this will have been a waste."

"Ginny, you've still got three years at school. If you don't get in this year, you can try again next year. It's Katie's last year, so there'll be a spot for a Chaser open next year as well."

Ginny paled. "Katie's still at Hogwarts? But she finished last year."

Harry threw himself down on the ground. "She got sick in her first year, glandular fever. She missed loads of classes, and she's been working a really weird class schedule ever since, sort of half one year, half the next. She sat some of her N.E.W.Ts last year, the rest this year."

"So she's only part time?"

"Yeah. I thought you knew. Sorry."

Ginny sank to the ground, staring blankly at her broom which she laid across her lap.

"I can't believe there's only two Chaser places."

"Katie will be picking the Chasers this year, too," Harry said. "Ron and I can't, not if you're trying out."

Ginny nodded quietly. "I suppose that makes sense. Do you know who else will be trying out this year?"

"Seamus said he'd be up for Beater. Hey, guess who'll be back at Hogwarts this year?" Ron said.

Harry shrugged, and Hermione looked up from her book.

"Lee! How cool is that? Dumbledore told him when he was here for your birthday, Harry. Madam Hooch is going to teach him how to coach Quidditch, and he's going to be commentator this year again. Fred told me last night."

Harry smiled. He'd always felt that Lee's commentary made for a lot of the atmosphere at Quidditch matches, even if he was highly biased in favour of Gryffindor.

"Of course," Ron said, slyly. "He'll be so used to having all those Weasleys on the team, Ginny will have to get on with us. Imagine if he had to remember seven different names.

Despite herself, Ginny smiled at her brother.

*

There was just a week to go before school started. Ginny was rarely to be seen indoors. Instead, she spent all her time in the orchard, wringing every last drop of magic from her broom, trying every tip from _Quidditch Through the Ages, Flying With The Cannons _and _The Chasers Chapters _to give herself an edge. She thought about how hard Oliver Wood had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team - something she had learned during the time she spent watching and listening to Harry, but never speaking to him. 

__

I wonder whether Katie will be as hard to please as Oliver was, or whether I'm better off trying to prove myself to another Chaser.

"Ginny Weasley, come down here now! I know you haven't done any homework this holiday!"

Ginny winced at the sound of her mother's voice. Looking around, she saw Mrs Weasley, far away and shorter than Ginny was but still incredibly formidable, and waved to her.

"I'll be in in a minute, mum," she yelled, turning her broom to accelerate away.

"You'll be in _now_," Mrs Weasley shouted. "Ron, Harry and Hermione are all working, and they don't have exams next summer. Now come down here and go and do some work."

Ginny stopped her broom, and hung without moving in mid air for a few seconds, but one more look back at Mrs Weasley was enough to convince her. She sank slowly groundwards, coming in to land a few feet from her mother.

"Good girl," Mrs Weasley said. "Now, Harry and the others are working in the back room. I don't know if you want to join them or not, but Hermione said she'd be happy to help you out if you want her to."

__

Help would be nice, I suppose. Better than just trying to do it myself. Maybe Hermione will just let me look at her old essays? She did most of the subjects that I'm doing at O.W.L. level.

Ginny shook her head.

"No, it's okay. I'll work in my room. There won't be as many distractions there. Besides, I don't want to hassle Hermione when she's got enough to be going on with those two in there."

Mrs Weasley smiled at her daughter. "Very sensible of you dear. Yes, I can believe Hermione is having trouble concentrating. Do you want anything before you get to work?"

Ginny thought of the stack of books sitting unopened on her desk.

__

Yes. Help. A private tutor. A funnel in one ear that I can use to just pour my books into. I must be mad to play Quidditch with so much work to do.

She smiled at Mrs. Weasley. "No, it's okay mum. I'll be fine."

*

Dinner came, and Ron took a tray up to Ginny's room. When she didn't answer his knock, he left her food outside and went pack down to start on his own.

"She must be really behind on her work if she's not eating," he whispered to Harry as Fred talked excitedly about the chances of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes opening a branch in Hogsmeade. Zonko's Joke Shop had apparently had a thirty percent drop in profit since the twins had opened their shop which, as Fred said, wasn't bad going for two months business.

Harry sat behind his plate, picking worriedly at his meal. As soon as he was able, he sprung up from his seat and made his way upstairs. He saw the uneaten food sitting outside Ginny's room, and tapped lightly on the door. When he didn't get any answer, he turned the handle and let himself in. 

Ginny was frantically scribbling away on a roll of parchment. Harry watched for a minute as she made her way through what seemed to be a long and complicated Arithmancy equation. When she paused for a second, he coughed lightly. Ginny jumped violently, and spun around in her chair.

"Harry!" she yelled, her cheeks a bright red that he suspected wasn't caused by embarrassment. She was breathing heavily, as though she'd been running. "How long have you been standing there?"

"A minute or so," he said, walking over to her. "Are you okay? I was worried."

"I'm fine. I've just left all this a bit late," she said, her eyes frantically darting from one part of the room to another. Harry followed her gaze and realised that she had different homeworks open at different parts of the room.

"Ginny, how many subjects are you trying to do?" he asked.

"I've got eight pieces of homework," she said, "and I'm trying to get some of it all done tonight. I can't believe I let myself get so far behind!"

She threw herself at Harry, burying her face in his t-shirt for a minute. He held her close, his gaze travelling around the room and resting on her Arithmancy work.

"Do you want some help?" he asked.

"No," she said fiercely into his chest. "I got myself into this mess. I'll get myself out of it."

"Well, okay. It's just. . ." he tailed off.

"What?"

"Well, I don't do Arithmancy, but I've seen Hermione doing her work often enough. I'm pretty sure that the, er, the quadratic factor of two tablespoons of dragons' blood isn't a flowering Mandrake shrub."

"What? _Oh no!_" Ginny broke free from Harry's embrace and darted over to the table. She scowled as she looked over the parchment. "Oh, I don't believe it. I've got my Herbology homework mixed up with my Arithmancy. I can't believe I was so stupid." She slammed her fist onto the top of her desk with a loud thump. Harry winced at the thought of the bruise she'd end up with.

"Well, these things happen," he said carefully as Ginny sank onto her bed, scowling. "I turned in a History of Magic essay once where halfway down I'd written a paragraph about how much I hated it when Ron and Hermione kept bickering when we were supposed to be doing homework."

Ginny looked up. "What happened?"

"Er. . . Well, Binns marked it Acceptable, but said I might want to use a more well-known comparison to goblin warfare in future."

Ginny giggled briefly, but her face fell into a scowl again. "I'm never going to get through all of this. Why did I leave it so late? I'm never going to let this happen again."

Harry sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. "You don't have to do it all yourself, you know. We'll all help. And it can't all be in for the first day. Don't go mad trying to do it all now. Leave some to do the first week back. Okay, so you'll have other homework to do as well, but you'll go completely raving if you try and do it all now. They'll have to take you off to St Mungo's, like Lockhart. Maybe you can get a bed next to his. Hermione can come and visit you both."

Ginny giggled again, and seemed genuinely more cheerful. "I'm still an idiot for leaving it all this time. I just want to get on the team _so _badly."

"I know. But McGonagall will have you dropped if your marks suffer because of Quidditch. You'll just have to learn to balance it all out. We'll help."

Ginny nodded. "You're right. I think I've learned my lesson." She sighed, and looked around. "Do you think it's worth trying to rescue anything tonight?"

Harry looked around the room at the myriad pieces of homework. "You have any Dark Arts work?"

"Want to show off, do you?" Ginny asked.

"Well, I need to brush up anyway. I'm doing my homework for that tomorrow, now we've got Herbology out of the way."

"How come you've got homework anyway?"

"Professor Dumbledore left it for us when he came by. It's to 'prepare us for the supreme challenge of our Nasty Evil Wizarding Tests' as Professor Sprout put it."

"What do you make of it so far?"

"The N.E.W.T. stuff? Well, it's okay, pretty hard, but the homework has mostly been stuff that we had a brief look at during O.W.Ls. I don't even want to think about Potions just yet, though. Can we do some nice easy O.W.L. homework?"

"Easy? Just you wait, Potter," Ginny glowered, softening the fierce look with a smile. "The instant we get back on the Express, I'm going to be testing out all the hexes I know on you."

"Won't work," Harry said. "I taught you most of them."

"Not this one," Ginny snarled, launching herself into Harry and knocking him backward onto the bed. She bore down on top of him and kissed him hard, with an intensity that at first surprised him, but that he was quick to reciprocate.

__

She's never_ kissed me like this before. . ._

Harry would never be able to say just how long that kiss lasted. A sharp rap on the bedroom door surprised them both and Ginny leapt back off of Harry with a shocked look on her face, a look that changed to one of frustration as the door opened.

"Ginny, Harry, are you two alright?" Mr Weasley asked as he poked his head around the door.

"Yes, dad, we're fine," Ginny replied innocently. "Harry's been helping me with my homework. I'm afraid I've let myself get a bit behind," she admitted.

"Well, don't overdo it," he said, staring pointedly from Harry to his daughter. "It's getting late, anyway."

"We'll be done soon," Ginny replied. Mr Weasley nodded and pulled the door to behind him as he left.

"That," Ginny murmured, "was a kiss and a half."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking anxiously at the door. "Er. . . About that. . ."

"I think it's probably a good idea we're going back to school very soon and you won't be able to come into my bedroom," she said, a mischievous look on her face. Harry flushed red, but nodded.

__

Or your brothers would kill me.

*

Ginny and Hermione sat up late working on a schedule for Ginny to get through the piles of homework she'd let build up. Hermione was well versed in the art of time management, and Ginny soon had a neat timetable to work through. Hermione, Ron or Harry would help her with the work, as they all had passed all their O.W.Ls the year before.

Once homework had been dealt with, Ginny fell back on her bed with a sigh. Hermione looked at her in amusement.

"That was a Harry sigh, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "When he came up here, we kissed."

"You've kissed a lot of times," Hermione pointed out, clearing the camp bed she was using of wadded up parchments.

"I know," Ginny said with a wide grin. "This time was different."

"Oh?"

"Much more intense. We were kissing here," she said, pointing at her bed.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"

Ginny looked up at her friend. "You and Ron haven't-"

"Of course not! What if someone caught us?"

"Dad nearly did," Ginny said, blushing furiously. "We were lucky he knocked before coming in."

"I'll say you were," Hermione said. The thought of Mr or Mrs Weasley walking on her and Ron kissing had always made her feel slightly ill.

"But it was so weird. I kissed him, and it was just different. Like it was more, I don't know, more important? Like it meant more this time?"

"What were you doing before you ki-" Hermione began, before ducking to avoid Ginny's pillow.

"Nothing like that! Harry was just being, well, he was just being _Harry_. I was getting so nervous about my work, and he said something that just really calmed me down and made me feel much better."

"He does do that," Hermione said, throwing Ginny's pillow back at her. "He's growing up, Ginny. So are you, but Harry is. . ."

"He's becoming more and more mature. He's turning into the leader people sort of expect him to be. He's, well, he's sort of what people expected Lockhart to be, isn't he?"

Hermione coloured slightly at the thought of Gilderoy Lockhart, but nodded. "You're right. I've been trying to put words to it for weeks now, but you're right. He's living up to people's expectations. People have such high expectations when it comes to Harry, and it would be so easy for him to just not bother even trying, but he can't do that. He's a born leader, he's a great wizard, and he's going to end up being everything people need him to be."

The two girls sat in silence for a moment. Hermione felt slightly flustered about the high praise she'd heaped on her absent friend, and was grateful when Ginny broke the silence.

"You know what else?" the younger girl asked.

"What?"

"He's a great kisser, too."

*

Harry and Ron lay awake, staring at the darkness, listening to Hermione and Ginny laughing and trying to imagine what the girls were up to below them that was so hilarious.

"Letter from Bill? He always writes to Ginny, doesn't he?" Harry suggested.

"Yeah, but it's nearly midnight. Owls don't deliver at night. They go off and hunt. One time I saw Errol swoop on a rabbit and try and fly off with it."

Harry looked at Ron, interested in spite of the ongoing laughter from below them. "What happened?"

"Daft bird flew about two inches and keeled over. Out cold. Keeps forgetting he's about two days away from croaking."

"Well, maybe they're talking about what fantastic boyfriends we are," Harry suggested.

As though in answer, the girls started laughing again, even louder.

"They're mad, you know that?" Ron said. "What are the odds that we'd end up with the two maddest girls in Hogwarts?"

"Could be worse," Harry said cheerfully. "We could have ended up not going out with them."

"Oh, shut up," Ron grumped, throwing his pillow across the room. Once Harry had thrown it back, and his trainer as well, Ron grunted "S'pose you're right, though."

The laughter finally died away.

"About bloody time," Ron said. "No manners, some people."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling his eyes growing heavier by the second. "But I'll let you discuss that with Hermione tomorrow, shall I?"

Ron's only reply was a loud snore. Harry drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

__

To be continued…


	7. Chapter Six: Honesty

__

(Author's Note: Thanks to Eric2, Zahri Seb Melitor and Aggiebell for reviewing. Comments at the foot of the chapter.)

****

Chapter Six: Honesty

The last day of August dawned sunny and dry. Ginny awoke at her desk, face down on a pile of parchments that contained her working out and conclusions for Arithmancy. Hermione was flat out on the camp bed next to her, fully dressed and with ink smeared over her cheek. Ginny groaned loudly as she sat up straight, her back stiff and sore. Hermione mumbled something as she rolled over on to her front, but slumbered on.

Ginny staggered to her feet, looking around the room. The parchments containing her Potions, Dark Arts, Herbology, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures homework were stacked neatly on top of her trunk. Copies of all of them sat in her bedside cabinet, Charlie having replicated them for her to be sure that she wouldn't have to redo the work herself if something happened to the originals.

Willing paranoid thoughts of spontaneous combustion of her homework from her mind, Ginny made her way sleepily downstairs and into the kitchen. It was too early even for her mother to be up and about, and yet someone was sitting by the door, watching the sunrise.

"Hey George," she said. Fifteen years of growing up around the twins meant she was able to tell them apart easily enough. It helped that now that the twins had money of their own to spend, they'd developed markedly individual tastes in clothing. George tended to dress the more conservatively of the two. Fred wouldn't have been seen dead in the dark purple shirt that George was wearing.

"Good morning Ginny," George said. "Looks like it'll be a beautiful day."

Ginny looked at her brother a little curiously.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just woke up earlier and had a moment of panic that I hadn't bought any of my Hogwarts stuff. I'm going to miss the place."

"It won't be the same without you there," Ginny said.

"It's all up to you, now," George said with a smile. "I noticed they didn't make you a Prefect."

"I know. Can't imagine why. Colin Creevey and Daniella Spinnet are the only two who got made Prefect from Gryffindor this year."

"Well, you've always been able to twist that Colin around your little finger. And it's lucky for Neville that Daniella isn't as. . . fiery as Alicia. You won't have any problems staying out of line."

"You miss her, don't you?"

"Alicia?" George asked. He shook his head unconvincingly. "It's best for her to focus on her career. Apparently," he added with a forced chuckle.

"Really?" Ginny asked shrewdly. George's pretence, which hadn't been very convincing to begin with, faded in the full strength of his sister's inquisitiveness.

"I have my good days and bad days. I guess that not every relationship lasts forever. Besides," George said, brightening up, "I have a date tomorrow night. It doesn't take us Weasleys long to get back in the saddle, young Ginny. Just remember that if Harry turns out to be too much like Ron."

Ginny smiled at her brother. "I don't think I'd have much to complain about if Harry does turn out like _any_ of my brothers."

*

Mrs Weasley had been delighted that George and Ginny had prepared breakfast when she came down. She was free to go around the house, collecting the school supplies, clothes and equipment that the four Hogwarts-bound teenagers had left scattered about. Soon the four of them each had a neat pile next to their trunks that took a pleasingly short time to pack away.

Harry looked at his trunk quizzically. Try as her might, he couldn't find a way to fit his galactic model into the remaining space. 

"I know I gave up Astronomy anyway, but I still want to take it along," he said. "It cost me enough I almost feel I should be staring at it every second."

"Nah, it's the sort of thing you have on your shelf, and you look at it when you're stressed. Like goldfish," Ron said, his voice somewhat muffled as his head was under his bed where he was trying to find Pigwidgeon's owl treats.

The bedroom door creaked open and Ginny came in, bearing the last of Ron and Harry's robes, fresh from the clothesline.

"More robes? I don't have enough room as it is," Harry sighed. Ginny dumped the robes on the bed and looked in Harry's trunk.

"You've got loads of room," she said.

"Not if I want to take the galactic model as well," he replied, pointing at it where it lay on his bed. 

Ginny looked from Harry to Ron and back again.

"I know it's a bit of a novel idea," she said. "But why not just put some of your stuff in Ron's trunk, or Hermione's, or mine."

Harry blinked. "Good idea," he said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Well, you have plenty to think about," Ginny said absently as she plucked an armful of socks from Harry's trunk. "Quidditch, the Duelling Club, your N.E.W.Ts, all that."

Harry groaned. "I forgot all about the Duelling Club. We'll have to keep on with it," he said to Ron, who nodded. 

"Yeah. Not really right to cancel it, even if it is going to get in the way of Quidditch."

"And your work," Hermione said, coming in to the room with Crookshanks at her heels. "You remember work, don't you Ron? What we're at Hogwarts to do?"

"Yes Hermione, I remember work," Ron said. "Most of it's useless, the rest is boring. We've got enough to worry about without you bringing it all up on the last day of holidays."

Hermione ignored him. "We're going to the Leaky Cauldron in thirty minutes," she said. "Everyone has to be downstairs and ready by then."

Ginny dug into Harry's trunk again, and pulled out his towels. "Hermione, here, take these for Harry, will you? He needs space for his model thing."

Hermione took the towels, and Ginny dived back into the trunk again and pulled out Harry's Firebolt. "Ron, here, I imagine Harry will trust you with this."

Hermione and Ron grinned as Ron took the broom. Harry shoved the last of his things into the trunk, before adding the model of the galaxy in last. It fit snugly among his robes, and the trunk shut smoothly on top of it.

"Thanks, Ginny," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Not a problem," she said. "Probably not the last time I'll have to do the thinking for you. You're a boy, after all."

With that, Ginny and Hermione dashed from the room, followed by Pigwidgeon's owl treats that an outraged Ron threw after them. The box clattered down the stairs, spilling its contents as it descended. Ron looked at Harry with a look of trepidation on his face. His fears were realised a few seconds later.

"RONALD WEASLEY!!! DO YOU THINK I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH ALREADY TODAY WITHOUT YOU-"

Ron dashed out of the room and down the stairs in an effort to try and placate his mum. Harry finished packing the last of Ron's things in his trunk, fully aware of the two girls laughing themselves hoarse in the twins' room next door.

*

The four teenagers gathered around the fire in the Weasleys kitchen. For once, Harry didn't mind the idea of travelling by Floo powder. He'd had a lot of practise over the summer, travelling back and forth between the Burrow and Diagon Alley several times, and even going to Ireland to visit Seamus for his friend's birthday shortly after the exam results had come back.

Nevertheless, as first Ron and then Hermione vanished through the green flames, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety at the thought of travelling via the Floo network. He still hadn't managed to get the hang of landing properly and more often than not stumbled awkwardly out of the fireplace, or simply fell to the ground.

When his turn came, he took a pinch of powder and dragged his trunk into the magical flames. Holding the trunk firmly, he threw the powder down and yelled "Diagon Alley!"

Harry had barely finished speaking when the spinning began. In a second, he was gone from the familiar confines of the Weasleys home. He spun faster and faster, catching glimpses of peoples homes both inviting and disturbing. One elderly wizard seemed to be bathing in an old tin bath in front of his fire, while a younger witch was sleeping on her sofa, a ginger cat curled up on her lap. Harry felt slightly uncomfortable watching other people's lives, but accepted it as an unavoidable side effect of using the Floo network. He found himself thinking of the following summer when he would be able to learn how to Apparate, and could dispense with the need to use Floo powder once and for all.

In time, the spinning began to slow and Harry prepared himself for arrival at the Leaky Cauldron. He threw out one arm to steady himself and felt the familiar cool stone of the Cauldron's main fireplace. He stumbled as the spin halted, but gripped the handle of his trunk tightly to try and counter it. It worked, partially. He still banged his head on the side of the fireplace, but he stayed upright.

"Well, you're improving," Ron grinned. He handed Harry a Butterbeer. "Come on, Hagrid's over here."

"I'll be over in a minute. Ginny'll be here in a second."

Ron walked away, shaking his head but smiling. Harry knew Ron was pleased to see that he was keeping an eye out for Ginny, but that Ron still liked to tease his sister and best friend about their relationship.

__

Which is fine. I wind him up enough about going out with Hermione.

Harry pushed his trunk over to the pile that lined one wall of the Cauldron. Harry knew that the pub had been secured for the evening for the exclusive use of Hogwarts staff and pupils. When Harry heard the Floo network activate once more in the fireplace behind him, he turned with a warm smile on his face and his hand outstretched to take Ginny's as she stepped off of the grate.

The smile froze on his face as a tall woman with a mane of long, white hair stepped from the fireplace. Seeing Harry, she smiled slightly and thrust her pink suitcase into his hands. Harry stood frozen by the surprise.

"Oh, thanks," she said. "Just shove it with the rest. I imagine someone'll pick 'em all up tonight. Now, is Hagrid in here?"

Harry pointed wordlessly, still tongue tied by the woman's arrival in Ginny's place. He watched her walk away, trying to work out why the surprise of her appearance had affected him so much. As she neared Hagrid, the fireplace flared again, and Ginny appeared. As soon as she saw Harry, she giggled, one hand coming up to her mouth to try and hide her laughter.

"I'm really not sure it's you," she said. Harry looked at her in bewilderment, then followed her gaze down to the suitcase he was holding.

"It's not mine," he said, taking the handle of Ginny's trunk and pulling it over to the pile. He put the woman's case on top of it and looked around for his Butterbeer. He sipped it, wishing for something a lot cooler to wash away the taste of soot in his mouth.

"Whose is it, then?" Ginny asked. Harry looked around, but couldn't see the white-haired woman anywhere.

"I dunno," he admitted. "She came through just before you and handed me her bag. She was looking for Hagrid."

"Well, why don't we ask him?"

"Yeah. Good idea. You're just full of them today, aren't you?"

"I always am. You just never pay attention."

"I'm paying attention now," Harry said. "From now on, I'll always listen to you, and follow your advice. At least then I'll have someone to blame."

"Who's blaming yeh for what, Harry?" Hagrid asked, turning as they approached. "That toad isn't loose again, is he? I told Neville to make sure he was shut away somewhere."

"No, I haven't seen Trevor anywhere," Harry said, as Ginny excused herself to get a drink. "No-one's blaming me for anything, Hagrid."

"An' well they shouldn't, either," Hagrid growled. "Feeling a bit stressed about this year, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, surprising himself slightly with the answer. Even as he said it, however, he knew that it was true. "Every year seems to mean something new and dangerous. I'm just wondering what this year will be. I'll probably be involved at some point. People will look to me to do the right thing. . . I don't even know how to pack my trunk, or travel by Floo powder."

"Ah," Hagrid said. "Now then, no-one's good at everything. Seems like I've heard Professor McGonagall say that a lot these last few months."

Harry brightened. "Really?"

"Yep. Reckons that we all play our part. Can't do more than we can do is the way I figure it. Whatever yeh have to do, Harry, you'll do fine. Yeh always have done, yeh always will."

"Thanks, Hagrid. I'm just feeling a bit nervous, I guess."

"Perfectly understandable, Harry," Hagrid said. He lowered his voice slightly. "Still, I was talking to your godfather the other day-"

"You were?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yeah, I was. I was telling him that this year looks like it might be pretty quiet. 'Course, we'll have them Ministry lot hanging around the school, but with any luck they'll stick to the library. If they try and stick their noses in to how Dumbledore's running the school, then it may be that me an' Fang'll have to have a little word with them."

"Hagrid, you can't go around threatening Ministry wizards!"

"No, not threaten, just explain to them that Professor Dumbledore is doing things like they ought to be done. We've not had any complaints this year, even after that nasty business in Hogsmeade. It's a record. Reckon everyone thinks that Dumbledore is doing things properly."

Harry grinned. "I always thought that Professor Dumbledore liked getting complaints."

"Yeah, well, there's complaints and there's complaints, if you catch my drift. Stuff about you kids getting too much homework -or not enough homework- well, it just doesn't seem as important when You-Know-Who is back."

"I guess not. Still, it's nice to know that people think Dumbledore can beat him."

"Not just that Professor Dumbledore can beat him, Harry," Hagrid replied with a wink.

Harry felt a little uncomfortable under Hagrid's beetle-eyed gaze. He'd never really believed that he was the one who was destined to take on Voldemort, despite the number of times their paths had crossed. Surely Dumbledore would be the one to defeat the dark wizard. He, Harry Potter, might play a part in it, but he couldn't believe that the final confrontation would involve him and Voldemort.

__

Mainly because I don't_ think it will be a final confrontation if it's him and me. He'll beat me easily, and then kill everyone I care for._

Ginny appeared at Harry's side, and offered him a cool glass of orange juice.

"You looked a bit hot," she said.

"Thanks, yeah, I was," he said, taking it gratefully. Hagrid had turned away and was welcoming some third year Gryffindors Harry vaguely recognised.

"Did you find out who the mystery woman was?" Ginny asked.

"What? Oh, no, I didn't. Hagrid and me talked about other things."

"Such as? Getting information from you is like pulling teeth, Harry Potter."

"Well, about Voldemort, and how he'll be beaten. Hagrid seems to think it'll be me who does it."

"Don't you?" Ginny asked. Harry looked at her in surprise.

"No, I don't. Dumbledore or someone will beat him. An adult. Not me. I couldn't beat him last summer and I'm no more powerful now then I was then."

Ginny smiled. "But everyone thinks it'll be you, anyway. That bothers you?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, it's like I said, everyone expects me to be this fantastic wizard, but I'm not. Hermione knows loads more than I do."

"But it's not Hermione that Voldemort marked with that scar."

"Right, it's me, how could I forget?" Harry sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just having one of those days where everything seems to be against me."

"We all have them," Ginny replied. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently. "I still think you can do anything, even if I have seen you carrying a pink suitcase."

Harry laughed, and followed his girlfriend as she led the way over to where the Gryffindor fifth- and sixth-years were congregated. Among his friends, Harry quickly forgot his feelings of inadequacy as the afternoon wore on, and a fierce game of Truth or Dare took hold of most of the room.

*

Ron grinned at Harry as his friend stood in the middle of the circle. He'd just been forced by Seamus to admit that the Ballymena Bats had a better chance of winning the title that season then the Chudley Cannons, and was feeling an a vengeful mood.

"Okay Harry," he said. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Harry said, looking his friend directly in the eye.

"Okay, let me see. . ." Ron glanced at Ginny. "What was the first thing, the very first thing that made you think of Ginny as anything other than a friend?"

The girls in the room, for the most part, smiled. The boys, for the most part, scowled.

"Well, it was this time last year," Harry said. "We were standing in the kitchen at your house, and I was watching Ginny, and I just thought she looked really pretty. That was it."

Harry sat down to a loud call of "Boring!" from Seamus, Dean and Ernie McMillan, none of whom had so far been called upon to answer questions about their love lives. Harry caught sight of Lavender Brown looking a bit exasperated with Seamus, and privately thought that it was probably just as well.

"Well done," Hermione said, leaning around Neville to whisper to Harry. "You got that right."

Harry smiled. "First time for everything, I suppose."

Harry stood back up again and drew a name from the bag on the floor.

"Dean Thomas!"

Dean stood reluctantly and walked into the centre of the circle, a near empty bottle of Butterbeer in his hand.

"Okay, truth or dare?" Harry asked.

"Truth," Dean replied guardedly. He looked back to Seamus and Ernie, who gave him a cheery thumbs-up.

"Right. . ." Harry thought for a second. "If the Yule Ball was tomorrow, which non-Gryffindor girl would you ask to go with you?"

Dean drained the dregs of his bottle, and looked around, as though judging the girls around him.

"I reckon. . . I dunno. There's a lot to choose from. Probably not a Slytherin," he said to general laughter. "There's lots of Muggle borns in Hufflepuff, so I don't know if I'd want to go with someone who was brought up like me-"

"Get on with it!" Ron yelled. Dean ignored him pointedly.

"-I reckon I'd go with someone who was brought up a witch, so it'd give us something to talk about. Someone from Ravenclaw'd be my best bet. Maybe someone who plays Quidditch? What about that Cho Chang? She seems alright."

Dean bowed as people appaluded his long-winded answer. Ginny leaned past Hermione to whisper something to her friend Luna, a Ravenclaw fifth year. The blond girl seemed to think for a second, before deciding Ginny's comment was funny and laughing loudly. Dean smiled, and took a slip of paper from the bag and spun instantly to face Seamus.

"Finnigan!"

Seamus strode out into the circle, and stood nose to nose with his friend.

"Truth!" he yelled, before Dean could say anything.

"Good grief!" Dean exclaimed with a grimace. "You need a breath mint mate, there's a truth for you."

"Just ask the question."

"Okay, okay, uh, how many times a week do you dream about Ireland winning the Quidditch World Cup?"

This question got a laugh, and a round of applause from the Quidditch-loving members of the audience.

"At least once," Seamus said happily. "'Course, I dream about other stuff, too-"

The details of Seamus' dreams were cut off by Dean quickly slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. The two made their way back to their seats, and Ron stood up again. He pulled two names from the bag.

"Hannah Abbott will ask Ernie Macmillan!"

There was a sharp intake of air from the Hufflepuffs among the crowd. Hannah stumbled into the centre of the circle as though she had been pushed. Ernie made his way forward with a look on his face that said quite clearly that he was unhappy to be there.

"T-truth or dare?" she asked, stuttering a little.

"Dare," he replied, looking her in the eye. Behind him, Seamus rose and opened his mouth to yell something, but was quickly pulled down by Dean. Katie Bell grabbed Seamus' hands while Dean held his mouth closed.

"I want you. . ." Hannah said. "I want you to. . . I want you to do a handstand," she finished quietly.

Ernie looked at her for a long moment, and then shrugged.

"If that's what you want," he said, sounding disappointed. He bent over double and set his hands on the floor, bringing his legs up smoothly until he was poised, arrow straight, upside down. He held the pose for several seconds before bringing his legs back down again and standing up straight once more. There was a scattered round of applause as he turned to face Hannah again.

"So, was that okay?" he asked. She nodded, biting her lip, and walked out of the circle.

"I'm off to bed," she muttered as she headed for the stairs. "We have an early start tomorrow."

Ernie stood in the circle, looking deeply frustrated. Bending down, he drew a name from the bag, trying to look interested as he did so.

Ginny leaned across Harry, and caught Hermione's attention. She nodded towards the stairs, and the two got up, heading after Hannah. Harry watched them go, and was absently thankful that it was one problem which he wouldn't have to solve.

Turning back to the game, he watched as Terry Boot failed hopelessly in an attempt at breakdancing.

*

Hermione and Ginny walked slowly up the stairs.

"We don't even know her that well," Hermione protested.

"She'll still want someone to talk to. Her and Ernie are the only sixth year Hufflepuffs here. I mean, it's pretty obvious that she likes him. I reckon he likes her too."

"We can't interfere," Hermione said.

"Of course not, but I was really grateful that you and the others came to see me last year. I think Hannah won't mind seeing a friendly face or two."

Ginny knocked lightly on the door of the room Hannah was sharing with Lavender Brown. There was silence for a second before the door opened a crack. Hannah's eye could be seen in the darkness beyond the door, but little else was visible.

"Hannah, do you mind if we come in?"

Hannah hesitated for a second, but then the door opened wide enough to admit the two girls.

A few minutes later, Hermione and Ginny were sat on Lavender's bed, facing Hannah who looked positively wretched.

"I'm just being silly," she was saying. "But ever since we started playing on the Quidditch team last year, he's been really, really nice to me. He hasn't said anything that makes me think he likes me, not like that, but we've become really good friends."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks. 

"I'm stupid, I know, but he's just so kind, and so confident. He's helped me a lot. I was so silly before I made it on to the team, but he really helped me. When I started to like him, I just thought it was a silly crush and I ignored it. I live near Dean Thomas, and I saw him a few times over the summer, but it didn't work out. I knew I liked Ernie, and it wasn't fair to Dean to go out with him like that."

"And Ernie doesn't know how you feel?" Hermione asked gently. Hannah shook her head.

"No, I've never said anything, and, well. . ."

"He's a boy," Ginny and Hermione said together. 

"I know what you're going through, really I do," Ginny said, leaning forward and taking Hannah's hand. "This time last year I was in my room and ready to cry my heart out because of a stupid joke Fred and George played on Harry and me. At least you don't have your brothers poking fun at you all the time."

"I guess not," Hannah said. "I just hate the way I act around him. I can't get two words out without stammering and stuttering."

"I _really _know how you feel, in that case," Ginny said with a smile. "I was like that around Harry almost from day one. It wasn't until I'd known him for nearly three years that I was able to be around him easily."

"So am I going to be like this for another two years?" Hannah asked, appalled.

"I don't think that's quite what Ginny meant," Hermione laughed. "She got over the way she acted around Harry because she stopped thinking about him as this superstar hero figure-"

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny interrupted.

"Well, it _is_ true," Hermione pointed out. "There must be things that you and Ernie have in common. You both play for the house Quidditch team, right?"

"Yes, but we've pretty much talked that to death," Hannah sighed.

"And he still talks to you? He must like you a lot," Ginny said.

"Maybe," Hannah said. She looked a little brighter.

"There must be other things you can talk about. Music? Films? Books? What else do you have in common?"

"I don't know," Hannah said. "We've never really talked about that sort of thing. Whenever we start, someone interrupts. Ernie gets a lot of people wanting him to help with work and stuff. I'm being stupid, really. He's really popular, and I'm just. . ."

"Who did he take to the Ball last year?" Ginny asked.

"He didn't go," she said. "We spent the evening in the common room, playing Exploding Snap with a couple of second years who couldn't go home for Christmas. It was really fun."

"Didn't he have anyone he could go with?" Hermione asked, glancing sideways at Ginny.

"He said he didn't want to go. I know that he was asked by a couple of girls, but he said he wasn't interested."

"Really? Didn't you think that was weird?"

"Well, not really. He told me from the start that he wouldn't go unless he knew he'd enjoy himself."

"But everyone else in your house went?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Well, except for one or two boys who couldn't get dates."

"Right," Hermione said. "It sounds to me like he wanted to go with you."

"Me too," Ginny said.

"But. . . Why didn't he ask me?" Hannah asked. "I would probably have said yes."

"That's why. He likes you, but you've never given any sign that you like him, he liked you before you liked him. . ." Ginny tailed off. 

"So. . . I should let him know that I like him?" Hannah said, going very pale at the prospect.

"You don't have to be blatant about it," Hermione said. "Find some excuse to spend time with him. Not just at Quidditch practise. You must have classes with him. Be one of the people who asks him for help with your work. And then _don't_ talk about your work."

"He's very serious about his work," Hannah said, laughing. "You should have heard him during the build up to our exams. He was going on and on about how much time he was spending studying."

"How did he do?" Hermione asked.

"Five O's, four E's, one A," Hannah said promptly.

"It must be love," Ginny giggled. "I can't believe you know what he got in his O.W.Ls."

"Well, don't you?" Hannah asked in surprise.

"No," Ginny said. "I know Harry passed them all. I probably would've known his marks backwards and forwards before we started going out. Hannah, I'm going to say something you might not want to hear. . ."

Hannah nodded for Ginny to go on.

"You know a lot _about_ Ernie, or so it seems. Do you actually _know_ Ernie? As a person, I mean? I knew a lot about Harry, even going back to when I was about five or six, but I didn't really _know_ him until much later, maybe not even until last summer. I wasted a lot of time. You don't have to."

"Ginny's right," Hermione said. "I was very lucky with Ron. We knew each other so well that we didn't really have any problems when we started going out. It's nice to have my boyfriend be my best friend as well.

"But I wouldn't worry about it tonight. A good night's sleep is what you need, or at least a good night lying awake thinking about tomorrow, which is what I think Ginny managed last year. Tomorrow morning, though, I want to come down to breakfast and find you sitting there, chatting to Ernie about nothing at all. Just getting to know him better."

"She may be bossy, but she's right," Ginny said. "Even about me not sleeping last year. You'll be fine tomorrow. Trust us. If you do need any help, get us to come over, okay? But you'll be great."

"We should be going," Hermione said. "It's lights out in a few minutes."

Hannah nodded. "It's a lot to think about," she said. "You're right, though. I should get to know him better. I might have a crush on someone who doesn't really exist."

"Ernie's a nice guy," Hermione said. "You might find something even better than you imagined once you get to know him."

"I know I did," Ginny said, as the girls walked out of the room.

*

"Is she okay?" Ron asked. The four teenagers had met up for a last glass of water before going to their rooms.

"I think she will be," Hermione replied. "How was. . ."

"Ernie?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded, and he went on. "Quiet. He's usually pretty easy to hear, but I think he's thinking about other stuff right now."

"Yeah, something with blonde hair and pigtails," Ron said quietly. Hermione smiled to herself, pleased that Ron was learning to be more considerate of others.

"It's quite sweet, really," Ginny said. "They say that the path of true love never runs smooth." She smiled, and reached out for Harry's hand, but he reached for his glass at the last second and drained it without noticing her.

"I guess not. Not in their case, anyway," he said. He smiled at Hermione and Ginny. "See you in the morning, I 'spose." He stood, and walked away from the table, climbing up the stairs to his and Ron's room.

"Is Harry okay?" Hermione asked.

"Just tired, I think," Ron said. "He seemed okay earlier. Did you hear him talking to Hagrid?"

The girls shook their heads.

"I only caught a bit of it, but he was saying about having people looking up to him, about how it gets to him sometimes, and he reckons this year even more people will be doing it. He said something like that to me when we heard about the prophecy a few weeks ago."

"Well, Harry has had a lot to deal with," Hermione said. "It's not surprising that he's a bit tired of it. We just have to be there if he needs us to be."

"I wish he'd talk to us about it if he is feeling bad," Ginny said. "Sometimes I just think there's a part of himself that he always keeps locked away."

"He's been like that as long as I've known him," Ron said. "I guess it's the way he was brought up, those ruddy Muggles."

Hermione nodded sadly. "He never really had anyone who appreciated him, who cared for him unconditionally. Sometimes he just sits there, looking around at everyone, and its like he doesn't feel like he belongs, like any second now everyone's going to turn on him."

Ginny bit her lip. "He must know that's not true," she said. "He's Harry. He's the best friend anyone could have."

"We know, Gin," Ron said heavily. "But it's not the sort of thing you can say to Harry, is it? ''Scuse me Harry, you know we think you're great, don't you?' He'd think we were barking."

"I'll just have to show him," Ginny said. "I'll make him realise that he has people who care about him, who love him, that he doesn't need to always be the one who sets an example, or whatever. Just being Harry is enough."

Hermione nodded. "You're right, of course, but Harry thinks that being Harry Potter means that he _does_ have to be that example. I'm not sure that anything any of us can say will change that."

__

To be continued…

****

Eric2: Ginny and Harry will be exploring the nature of their feelings for one another in far greater detail over the course of this coming school year. Whether this involves moving to the next level of dating, well, you'll have to wait and see.

****

Zahri: Lots of questions, but then you did review all the chapters, so… In no particular order, then: 

No Dolores Umbridge in this fic. 

The prophecy is gobbledegook of the highest order. It was written by Trelawney, after all *grin*

Katie and Lee got what the twins thought they deserved 

There is no shortage of stupid hats in the wizarding world *grin* 

Malfoy will reveal more of his plan in chapter eight (and you may be surprised)

Diggle was aiming for somewhere other than the Ministry of Magic, that much I will say

Whether Katie is one year or two ahead of Harry is never addressed in the books. As I know people who say both, I'm pacifying them all with this detail. Plus Lee/Katie is a fun ship *grin*

****

Aggiebell: I saw the idea of Harry's first Weasley jumper being a Ginny creation in a fic somewhere and I just loved the idea to bits. As for the rest of Ginny's character traits, well, they're an amalgam of the canon character and a few girls I know. Harry, on the other hand, is just plain boy in this chapter. Once he gets to Hogwarts, oh, things will pick up…

You'll find out more about what Draco meant in chapter eight. Lucius, meanwhile, will be back at various points in the story. Will Moody break him? He's not the only one trying, and that's for certain.

Oh, and updates should be no less than weekly from today onwards.


	8. Chapter Seven: Aboard The Express Once M...

**__**

Chapter Seven: Aboard The Express Once More

Harry came down to breakfast the next day with Ernie Macmillan, having met the Hufflepuff boy as they came out of their rooms. Ron, as far as Harry knew, was snoring happily, so Ernie's company was welcome.

"I hear you did rather well on your O.W.Ls as well," Ernie was saying.

"Yeah, okay I guess. Two O's, the rest were A's and E's."

"Excellent. Tell me, will you be running the Duelling Club again this year?"

"Er, yeah, I think so," Harry said. He always felt a little overwhelmed when talking to Ernie. "I need to check with Professor Dumbledore and the other teachers once we get back, but I'll let you know."

"Excellent," Ernie repeated. He drew his wand and waved it. "It will be good to perfect some more spells. I really felt as though I was contributing in Hogsmeade last-"

Ernie fell silent, his wand frozen in mid wave. Harry followed his gaze and saw Hannah Abbott sitting alone in the otherwise empty room, a spoon half way to her mouth and her cheeks bulging with a mouthful of unswallowed cereal.

Harry gave Ernie a small shove in the back and the Hufflepuff boy stumbled down the last few steps and into the dining room of the Cauldron.

"Good morning Hannah," Harry said pleasantly as he and Ernie helped themselves to some toast.

"Good morning Harry," she replied cheerfully. She looked at Ernie. "Good morning Ernie."

"Good, er, morning. Good morning Hannah," Ernie stammered. Harry smiled into a glass of pumpkin juice and walked over to the table nearest to the stairs.

"Won't, er, won't you join us Harry?" Ernie asked, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Sorry, Ernie, first meeting of our house Quidditch team this morning. Don't want you honest Hufflepuffs being tempted to sneak a listen to our tactics."

"Plan all you want, Harry, we've got the best team this year," Hannah said. Harry grinned, and sat down at his table, his chair turned away from the two Hufflepuffs. He fixed his attention on his breakfast, trying not to hear the conversation that was taking place behind him.

A creak on the stairs brought Harry's head up, and he greeted Terry Boot and Neville Longbottom warmly. The two paused to chat briefly before moving on to get their breakfast. They too sat a short way apart from Hannah and Ernie.

The pattern repeated itself over the course of the next half an hour, until the dining room was full. Only the chairs either side of Hannah and Ernie remained empty and when Ron came down last of all, he wordlessly assumed a position between Ginny and Hermione's chairs, sleepily shovelling bacon and fried bread into his mouth.

Shortly after ten o' clock, Hagrid walked through from the bar area and made his way slowly through the crowded dining room, depositing Portkeys on the door and laughing loudly at a joke that Dean and Lavender were having at Seamus' expense.

"Now then, young Seamus, I reckon you'll know better than to drink too many Butterbeers in future, won't you? One on its own might not be too strong, but they've got a nasty habit of getting stronger the more you drink."

"That's grand Hagrid, truly it is. Now please, will you shut up and go away. No offence meant, of course. It's just that you've just got a bloody loud voice."

Hagrid laughed loudly, prompting a groan from Seamus, who seemed to be trying to bury his face through the table.

"Hagrid, please. . ." Seamus moaned. Hagrid was still chuckling as he strode over to Harry and the others.

"Right, everyone fed an' watered? Don't reckon we'll tell too many people about Seamus, eh? Plenty of older and wiser wizards have gotten a bit carried away with Butterbeer over the years."

"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked.

"Eh? Oh, fine, fine," Hagrid said. "Don't worry about him. If he's got any sense, he'll steer clear of the stuff for a while, and he'll certainly not be forgetting that headache in a hurry, but no lasting damage, I shouldn't think."

Ron grinned. "I remember when Fred got plastered on the stuff a few years back, I think it was the Christmas before I started at Hogwarts. Everyone thought Mum would go mad, but she seemed quite pleased, really. I guess Fred learnt his lesson, 'cos he's never got drunk since then."

Ginny giggled at the memory. Harry looked up from his toast and caught her eye, sharing a smile with her. He looked back down, and so he didn't see the small smile she exchanged with Hermione.

*

As little as Harry liked travelling by Floo powder, he wasn't particularly keen on travelling via Portkey either. Nonetheless, he was the first at his table to take hold of the tattered copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which Hagrid assured them would take them to Kings Cross station in time to catch the Hogwarts Express. Glancing at the front page of the newspaper, Harry recognised Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, stabbing a finger forward repeatedly as he made some point or another.

Hagrid stood in the centre of the room, sharing a Portkey with tiny Dennis Creevey, a gold pocket watch in his other hand. He looked from the Portkey to the watch every few seconds, and then:

"Three, two, one, now!"

Everyone reflexively clutched their Portkeys a little tighter. Harry just had time to notice Fudge wincing as his photograph was crumpled under four hands, and then the magic took hold.

It was as though someone had jerked a line fastened behind Harry's stomach. He felt himself pulled forward. A small part of his mind knew that the others must also have felt the pull, and wondered why they didn't slam into one another, facing each other as they were. The rest of him experienced the same slight nausea he always felt when using magical transport.

Just as suddenly as the trip had begun, they arrived. Harry had bent his knees slightly as Hagrid counted down and he landed easily on platform 9 and ¾. Ron staggered beside him, and Harry threw out an arm to hold his friend upright. All around them, clusters of their fellow students were popping into existence. Hagrid strode through the crowd, collecting Portkeys and urging them aboard the train.

"Quickly now. The next lot will be here in a minute. Move it, move it!"

"Are you on the train again this year, Hagrid?"

"Yeah, yeah I will be Harry. Professor Snape and me will be watching the third carriage back."

"Snape's here? Blimey, he can't like that much," Ron said.

"He volunteered," Hagrid said shortly. "Now come on, get aboard."

They climbed aboard the train, chose an empty compartment and piled into it. Seamus, Dean and Lavender joined them soon after. The seven friends settled themselves comfortably in the cosy compartment, Seamus still wearing a pair of sunglasses that Tom the barman had transfigured from a pint glass. Even with the sunlight filtered, Seamus still seemed a little off colour, but he was cheerful enough and even laughed at the jokes aimed in his direction. Once everyone had settled in, Harry and Ron released Hedwig and Pigwidgeon from their cages, the two owls swooping up onto the luggage rack where they immediately fell asleep. Hermione opened up Crookshanks basket, letting the enormous ginger cat out into the compartment. He immediately leapt into Ginny's lap, and Ginny scratched behind his ears.

Harry kept glancing at his watch. He was anxious to be off, knowing he would be feel safer once the train was in motion. Logically, he knew he was being at least a little unreasonable. Dementors had been able to stop the train and board it both the year before and at the start of Harry's third year, but he found himself thinking of a passing remark made during Defence Against the Dark Arts during his fourth year.

__

"A moving target is always harder to hit," the fake Professor Moody had said. _"Keep moving, don't fall into a pattern, and your enemy will have to work a lot harder to get you. You want them thinking about you, not about what hex they're going to use on you."_

Thinking of Mad-Eye Moody brought Dedalus Diggle to mind. Harry wondered whether the two ex-partners were working together again. For the first time in days he thought of Dead-Eye Diggle's mysterious -and abrupt- appearance in Diagon Alley, and wondered briefly what it was the ex-Auror had done to become so badly injured.

Harry's train of thought was derailed by the compartment's door sliding back, and Ron jumping to his feet. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, alone and apparently unarmed. It took a few seconds for Harry to realise exactly what was different about Malfoy. He was dressed in simple black clothing, t-shirt and jeans. Unlike every other Hogwarts pupil that Harry had seen so far, Malfoy was not wearing school robes.

"I'd like to speak to Potter. Alone," Malfoy said. Harry could feel the Slytherin's cool grey eyes fixed on him as he glanced over at Ron.

"It's alright, Ron," Harry said as he stood up. "We're just going to talk, right Malfoy?"

"That's right," Malfoy agreed.

They stepped into the corridor of the train, dodging a crowd of third years who were flowing along the carriage like a river. They stared at one another, as though waiting to see which one would crack first.

"I don't know if Granger mentioned it, but we bumped into one another in Diagon Alley," Draco offered.

"She mentioned it. She said you didn't seem as arrogant as normal."

"She was right." Malfoy turned away from Harry and leaned on the windowsill, staring moodily at the crowds thronging the platform outside.

"I was brought up believing that pure blood families were superior to half bloods and Muggle borns," Malfoy continued. "That among purebloods my family was high on the list of the powerful. I never really thought about what my father had done when I was a child, and before I was born, but of course he was a Death Eater. When I realised that he was leading the attack on Hogsmeade a few months ago, I was shocked.

"I knew that he'd worked for You-Know-Who, but he always said that he was being controlled. _Always._ Even when it was just myself and my father, he told me that he'd been forced to do what he had done. But he never said that what he did was wrong. I grew up confused, half expecting my father to turn around and say that he enjoyed the killing, enjoyed the torture."

Draco looked around at Harry, and their eyes met as they had done many times before. Harry held the gaze for a long moment, trying to understand where Malfoy was going with his monologue.

"I know that I have always been, well, a Slytherin," Malfoy said. "I don't expect people to trust me. But seeing my father attacking people I've known since I was eleven years old, people from my own house, even, well, it changed something in me. I knew I didn't want anything to do with him. I was glad when he was captured, and I'll be the first to celebrate when he's sentenced. I've given up on my family, I want to make my own way in the world, and I want to apologise for what I've done in the past to you, Potter.

"You may have noticed that I'm not wearing my robes. When I get to Hogwarts tonight, I'll line up with the first years and be Sorted again. It can be done, it has been done, very rarely. I honestly can't stand to be among the Slytherins this year. I know that so many of them are related to You-Know-Who's supporters, and that I might do something I'll regret. It pains me to have to leave my mother behind, but she is too much a part of my father's world now. I'm lucky. It won't be easy, but I'll survive on my own.

"I doubt that I'll see you in Gryffindor, Potter. I imagine I'll be placed in Ravenclaw. But I wanted to say that, well, I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't mean much, but maybe someday it will."

Malfoy turned on his heel and walked away. Harry stared after him for several minutes, before suddenly coming out of his reverie when the train jerked and started moving. Shaking his head, he went back into the compartment.

"What did that idiot want?" Ron said, as soon as Harry sat back in his seat.

"To apologise," Harry said. He looked around the other Gryffindors. "He apologised for everything. Said he's given up on his family, that he's going to be Sorted again, that he wants nothing to do with his father anymore."

"He's lying," Ron said immediately.

"I don't think so," Hermione replied. "Not about being Sorted again, anyway. He didn't have his Slytherin robes on. It'd be a stupid lie to tell if he's not going to be Sorted. No, he must have been telling the truth about that. As for the rest. . ."

"I suppose we'll have to wait and see," Ron said. "But I don't believe him for a second. He's been a right little git since our first day. If he thinks that he can change just like that, after five years-"

"We should trust him," Harry said, surprising everyone. "We can't just say that we need him to prove himself for the next five years, to pay us back or whatever. That's what Voldemort said to his Death Eaters in the graveyard."

Silence fell over the carriage again. Even with his closest friends, Harry rarely talked about that night at the end of his fourth year. For Seamus, Dean and Lavender, it was the first time they had ever heard him mention it.

"So you're saying that we trust Malfoy, just like that?" Ron asked sceptically.

"I. . . I guess so. I don't know, maybe not trust him," Harry said. "Give him the benefit of the doubt. If he really is trying to change, then we won't help if we're breathing down his neck the whole time, waiting to see if he's for real or not."

Lavender nodded. "I think you're right, Harry. We all know that Malfoy was, well, a bit of a toad, but if he's willing to change then we should encourage the idea."

"Professor Dumbledore believes in Professor Snape," Hermione said. "Just because he's, well, basically horrible," she said with a glance at Dean, Seamus and Lavender, "doesn't mean that he doesn't have a worthwhile side to him. Maybe Malfoy will be the same."

Ron threw his hands up in the air. "Okay, fine, I don't believe for a second that he's genuine, but it doesn't matter. If he's going to keep his mouth shut, then that's good. I can't see him being Sorted into Gryffindor, anyway, so it won't make much of a difference."

"He thinks he'll probably end up in Ravenclaw," Harry said. 

Ginny giggled. "Sorry, I'm sure Malfoy has the brains to do well in Ravenclaw-" Ron snorted in disbelief "-it's just that Malfoy is always going on about how good a Quidditch player he is. What's he going to do if he gets into Ravenclaw? They've got Cho Chang as a Seeker. He won't get in the team in front of her."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe he just won't play. Anyway, don't we have anything better to talk about? It's great that Malfoy is going to clean up his act, but I'd still prefer it if we discussed something else."

"Too right," Ron said. "Who do you reckon Dumbledore will bring in as our Dark Arts teacher this year?"

"That would be me," came a female voice from the compartment doorway. "Couldn't shift along a bit, could you? Yours is the only compartment with any space left."

Dean, Seamus and Lavender shuffled along their seat to allow the newcomer enough room to sit down. Harry recognised the white-haired woman from the previous night, and noticed that she had her bag with her again. She pushed her bag into the luggage rack and then pulled off her travelling cloak, tucking it alongside her bag. As she sat down, Harry noticed that she carried her wand in a sheath at her belt, unlike most wizards who kept it inside their clothes.

"Sorry about this," the woman said. "Just try and ignore me. I'm not even officially on duty until we get to school, so I can get some sleep, and you can go back to whatever it was you were doing before I came in and interrupted."

She settled back in her seat, and closed her eyes. Hermione was the first to speak.

"Er, Professor?"

The woman's eyes flickered open again. "Yes?"

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"

The corner of the woman's mouth turned slightly upwards. "I suppose I can't object to your asking me that. My name is Skeeter, Maureen Skeeter. And, as I said, I'm taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts this year."

"That's awfully brave of you," Lavender said, before clapping her hand over her mouth. The woman smiled brightly.

"Well, yes, I've been told that the post isn't exactly a long-term undertaking. Still, we shall have to see how we go. I understand that I have some pretty big shoes to fill, after you've been taught by Professor Dumbledore and Professor Lupin."

"You know Professor Lupin?" Harry asked. Professor Skeeter nodded.

"Yes. Remus helped me a great deal when I was your age, or a bit younger I suppose. He supervised my remedial work in Charms and Dark Arts."

Hermione frowned. "You needed remedial classes?"

Skeeter frowned slightly. "Yes. When I was thirteen, I went home for Christmas. Death Eaters attacked my home, I never did find out why. I come from a long line of wizards, so we were _pure bloods_," she spat the last two words. "I was ill for a long time afterwards, and missed a great deal of school. Remus and a number of other students were assigned to help me with the work I missed. That's how I know that he's a good teacher. I was his first ever pupil."

Harry grinned. "He's a great teacher. It's a shame he can't be here this year."

"Well, I shall do my best to make up for his absence," said Professor Skeeter, a touch frostily. "We'll be studying, well, you'll have to wait and see. Now," she yawned. "If you'll excuse me, I really didn't get much sleep at all last night. . ."

Professor Skeeter's head drooped against the compartment wall, and soon she was sleeping peacefully as he train rocked gently from side to side.

"Never had a woman teaching Dark Arts before," Ron said. "Should be interesting."

"Think she's up to it?" Dean asked. "There always seems to be something that goes wrong each year for them."

"Well, if she's a friend of Professor Lupin, she'll be pretty good," Ginny said loyally. She was very fond of their old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"What do you think, Harry?" Lavender asked.

"She's probably okay," Harry said with a shrug. "I can't see Professor Dumbledore hiring someone who wasn't good."

"Well, he has made some rather strange appointments in the past," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, like Lockhart," Ron said. "And what about Quirrell?"

"Don't forget that old bat Trelawney," Dean said. Lavender looked scandalised, but refrained from saying anything.

"True," Ron agreed. "Still, I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

The others nodded in agreement, and conversation turned to other matters.

*

As the journey passed, people wandered in and out of the compartment in a steady flow. Katie came to talk to Ron and Harry about the Quidditch try outs they'd booked for the following Saturday. Neville arrived with Parvati and Padma Patil in tow; the two girls dragging Lavender away while Neville, Ron and Seamus played Exploding Snap.

Lunchtime came and went, and the trolley witch stopped at their compartment. Harry's moneybag was considerably lighter when she left, as he treated everyone in the cabin. He was feeling in a good mood, the knowledge that they seemingly had a decent Darks Arts teacher again making him feel pleased.

__

I hope she doesn't mind about the Duelling Club. I know Dumbledore thinks it's a good idea for everyone to have the chance to learn fighting spells, but she might think we're going over her head.

Harry grinned as Lee Jordan appeared briefly. Katie had returned to badger Ron about tactics for facing the Slytherins -news of Malfoy's defection had apparently spread- and Lee was only too happy to grab his girlfriend and pull her away.

The last visitor of the day was Professor Snape, who was patrolling their carriage. He had passed their door every half an hour, almost to the second, but had done no more than sneer at them. This time, however, he stopped by their door and came into their compartment.

"Back again, Potter," he sneered.

"That's right," Harry replied, staring the Potions teacher in the eye.

"I understand that you have signed up to study Potions once more. I warn you, and anyone else taking Potions this year, that I will not mollycoddle you. Many of the potions we will be brewing can have lasting side effects, and if I do not feel you are putting in the effort-" his eyes slid sideways to glance at Ron, before flicking back to Harry- "then I shall be using you as my test subjects. I assure you, I am well within my rights to do so," he continued, as Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "I give you fair warning, so that, should you wish, you may abandon your foolhardy attempt to pass in my class at NEWT level. I doubt you have it in you, Potter, and I imagine I shall find it extremely trying to have you in my class. Please, do us both a favour, and give up."

"I think I'll stay," Harry said, coolly. "I'm going to be an Auror when I leave school. I'll need to know my potions to do that, won't I?"

"Indeed you shall, Potter," Snape sneered. "An Auror? Well, the next time I see a Dark wizard, I shall be sure and let him know that he only has five years left before you complete your training. I'm sure that he will run and hide at the very thought of you trying to track him down."

Snape spun on his heel and strode towards the door of the compartment. He stopped and looked down at the sleeping Professor Skeeter for a second, a look of deep loathing settling on his features. "And this is our expert in fighting Dark wizards," he spat, before leaving the compartment, slamming the door behind him.

"Do you get the impression that Snape wasn't hugged enough as a child?" Dean asked after a few seconds. The others laughed, and put their vile Potions master out of their minds.

Eventually, the Express began to slow down. Professor Skeeter awoke as they were pulling into Hogsmeade station.

"Oh, I really needed that," she said. "Here, are we? Great. It'll be good to be back at Hogwarts."

She stood up, and unclipped the hairgrip that held her hair in one long ponytail. She shook it loose, letting it fall in a white wave that reached half way down her back.

"Can't sleep with it down," she said to Lavender, who nodded in agreement. "Nice to let it loose when I'm up and about though."

They followed Professor Skeeter out of the carriage and around the porters who were unloading all the trunks from the luggage area. Waving to Hagrid, who was collecting the first years, they reached the horseless carriages that would take them up to Hogwarts. Climbing aboard, Harry noticed suddenly that Ginny wasn't with them any longer. He looked around, and saw her getting into the carriage behind with Dean Thomas.

__

He's got such nice eyes, he thought with a grin. He settled back into his seat, his eyes settling on Hogwarts' lake and Ron and Hermione bickering about something beside him as they made their way along the road and up the drive.

And there, at last, its main doors invitingly open and its torches glowing brightly in the early evening dusk, was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

__

To be continued…

****

Zahri: Harry's a gentleman for everyone, with the exception of Malfoy, Snape and Voldemort and his cronies. And he may change his mind about Malfoy over the next few months. People can change, after all. Even Draco Malfoy. Possibly…

****

Sherbert79: We may be best off not knowing what Seamus was going to dare Dean to do.

****

Aggiebell: Ginny is doubly blessed with good friends and wonderful brothers. You know now that Pink Bag Lady is the new DADA teacher, the eccentric Maureen Skeeter. Harry and Ginny have a *very* long road ahead of them, and being subject to my whims and caprices, it won't be an easy one *grin*

Oh, yeah, and you found out about Draco's 'evil' plan here in Chapter Seven, not Eight. My bad.


	9. Chapter Eight: A Surprise At The Sorting

**__**

Chapter Eight: A Surprise At The Sorting

"It's been more than a thousand years

Since I was plush and new

And now my life revolves around

Sorting all of you

For even in great times of need

Your learning must onward go

So now I place you in your house

And watch you as you grow

Rest assured that there were times

When our lives have all been threatened

And yet I carry on my work

My judgement rarely questioned

With the Dark Forces at large once more

I come to sort you once again

Into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor

Ravenclaw or Slytherin

And yet the lesson which I must impart

Is that houses scarcely matter

In times of strife, in times of war

And we are certainly in the latter

A Dark wizard has arisen

And challenges all that we hold dear

And though my gift to you is a loving home

I really must make clear

Brave Gryffindor, loyal Hufflepuff

Canny Slyth'rin, bright Ravenclaw

Your house does not define you

Not now, nor evermore

You'll hear bad things about denizens

Of all our fine school houses

I tell you now, those who repeat the tales

Are naught but big girls' blouses

All of the houses will take you in

And build you smart and strong

And when you're gone, I'll still be here

Greeting newcomers with a song

So rest assured that I know what

Of which in rhyme I do now speak

It matters not that the Slytherins

Have the reputation of a sneak

Or that Hufflepuffs, so kind and loyal

Are said never to be bold

Or that Ravenclaws, their heads full of brains

Seem oft snobbish and cold

Or that our brave young Gryffindors

Will sometimes talk some complete rot

I tell you now that your chosen house

In the grand scheme matters not

The only thing that makes a difference

Is what you keep inside your heart

So I ask you to always bear in mind

When it comes time to play your part

Care not where other people went

Just try and do your best

For only by standing together

Can we hope to pass the test."

There was muted applause for the Sorting Hat's song. Harry and Ron exchanged glances as they watched Professor McGonagall call the first new pupil forward.

"That was weird," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Makes sense, though. The one thing everyone listens to is the Sorting Hat."

"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat bellowed, sending that house's table into wild applause as the first pupil ("Acrit, Penny!") was Sorted.

"I guess so," Ron said. "Do you reckon it'll make any difference?"

"Have a look," Harry replied, nodding at the long line of first years. He remembered his own Sorting, how he'd stood nervously, not talking to anyone, barely even listening as the others around him were Sorted. This time, however, the first years were talking, somewhat nervously, but they looked a lot more relaxed then Harry could ever remember new students looking before.

"Maybe Hagrid put a Cheering Charm on them?" Ron suggested as "Baines, Samantha" was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Well, whatever, but you know that the Hat is right," Harry said.

"Harry, as one wizard raised by Muggles raised to another, did you ever say 'you know the Hat is right' before you came here?" Dean asked from the other side of Ron. Ginny snorted into her goblet of pumpkin juice, and Hermione had to slap her on the back.

"You know what else is weird?" Ron asked. Harry nodded.

"Seeing Lee up at the staff table," he replied. The two looked up at their friend, who was sitting between Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch. True to form, he was chatting quite easily with the two staff members. He seemed quite at home even though, a few months earlier, he had been sat alongside Harry, Ron and the others at the Gryffindor house table.

Meanwhile, the Sorting had raised a point of interest. A tall boy, far too big to be a first year, was standing just inside the doors to the Great Hall. Even Draco Malfoy, who was standing beside him, looked short compared to the unknown boy.

"Hello Sir Nicholas," Lavender said as Nearly Headless Nick drifted through the ceiling and took a place between Harry and Seamus.

"Hello, hello," Nick replied cheerfully. He waved to the other Gryffindors, doffing his head to a few of them.

"Nick, d'you know who that big lad is?" Seamus asked, pointing to the tall boy.

"I believe he's an American, his parents moved here this summer and he's transferring from the Salem Academy." Nick replied. "I imagine he's going to be sorted, the same as any other new pupil. Who is that beside him, though?"

"That's Draco Malfoy," Ron said, his eyes narrowed. "He asked to swap houses. Reckons he doesn't want to be in Slytherin anymore."

"Oh dear, really?" asked Nick. "And after the Hat prepared that lovely song about houses not mattering all that much as well."

"Nick!" Ron objected. "You're mad about Gryffindor."

"Well, one does become rather attached to things when one has been around for five hundred years, Mr. Weasley," Nick said. "However, house rivalries matter little to us ghosts. We are all on good terms with the exception, I'm afraid to say, of Peeves."

"Is he still causing trouble?" Harry asked as "Charles, Damian," was Sorted into Slytherin.

"I'm afraid so, ah, here we are," Nick replied. Harry looked up and saw the tall American striding confidently toward the stool on which the Sorting Hat sat. Professor McGonagall lifted the hat, and the boy sat on the stool, but it was so low, and his legs so long, that his knees were almost around his ears. After a moment of thought, he tucked his legs beneath him, so that he was really kneeling over the stool rather than sitting on it.

"Josh Cochran, and he's a fifth year," Hermione said. "We don't have many Americans here, do we?"

"One in Gryffindor, one in Ravenclaw, two in Hufflepuff," Ginny said promptly. "I had detention from Professor Binns last year," she added at Ron's curious look.

"You got detention from Binns? How did you manage that?"

"I fell asleep in class," Ginny replied, colouring a little.

"I've done that loads of times," Ron said.

"And still been in there when he came in for his next class?" Ginny replied. "I missed a double period of Charms. Binns made me learn all of the nationalities that are at Hogwarts, because we were studying the foundation of the International Confederacy of Wizards."

Ron and Dean both laughed, but Harry was watching the American, Josh, being Sorted. He'd been under the Hat for over a minute, and Harry remembered that his own Sorting had taken much longer than anyone else's as well.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Josh unfolded upwards. Judging by how tall he was against Professor McGonagall, Harry realised that he was really only a little over six foot tall, and that standing among the first years had made him seem taller. The applause he received matched his stature, however, as he was the first of the new pupils to be sorted into Gryffindor. He took his seat at the end of the table, shaking hands with a few of his new housemates.

As the next candidate was called forward ("Coldicott, Emma"), Harry caught sight of a flash of pale blond hair, and realised that he had forgotten about Malfoy in among all the other events so far. Shrugging, he looked up at Nearly Headless Nick.

"What's Peeves been up to, Nick?" he asked.

"Oh, the same as usual. Most tiresome, really," Nick sighed. "The Headmaster gave a dinner for Deputy Minister Weasley during the holidays, and Peeves decided to liven things up."

"Oh dear," Hermione said. Harry and Ginny shared a grin as they remembered Mr. Weasley returning from the meal with his dress robes soaked through with gravy, custard and pumpkin juice. Despite this, however, he had been in high spirits, although the secret nature of much that he had discussed with Dumbledore meant that he hadn't discussed it with anyone. It was an open secret in the Weasley household that Mr. Weasley and Percy were working to supply information to Dumbledore and the network of witches and wizards who were working to oppose Voldemort's new reign of terror. If Mr. Weasley was in good spirits, George had said, it probably meant that things were going well for their side.

"Malfoy, Draco," Professor McGonagall announced, breaking through Harry's reverie. He looked up sharply. There was a collective intake of breath as Malfoy walked forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his gaze fixed on the floor directly in front of him. Harry glanced at the Slytherin table and knew at once that Malfoy hadn't told any of them about his defection from their house. Pansy Parkinson in particular looked amazed, while Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's former best friends, sat slack jawed in their seats, their gazes following Malfoy stupidly as he made his way between the house tables and up to the front of the Hall.

Malfoy sat on the stool. Although he was shorter than Josh Cochran, he was still too tall to look comfortable on the stool. He didn't make any attempt to make himself more comfortable, however, instead choosing to look faintly ridiculous as the Sorting Hat was lowered on to his head.

The whole school, staff and pupils alike, watched attentively as the Hat sat silently on Malfoy's head. Harry wondered how long it had been since someone had asked for a transfer from one of the school houses, at least after the first few weeks of their first year had passed.

The whole of the Great Hall was silent, still, holding its breath. The Sorting Hat was no more animated. It was as though it was frozen in place on Malfoy's head. Malfoy himself was staring blankly ahead, his gaze unchanging and unblinking.

Finally, the Hat moved. The upper half tilted slightly back, the folds in its material making it appear that the Hat was opening a mouth. And then:

"RAVENCLAW!"

There was a scattering of applause from the Ravenclaw table, mostly, Harry realised, among the younger pupils who didn't know much of Malfoy beyond his being the Slytherin Seeker. If Malfoy expected a warmer welcome in his new house, he didn't show it. He took his place quietly among his new housemates, and turned to watch the rest of the first years, beginning with "Midgen, Nicholas," being Sorted.

The rest of the ceremony went by smoothly. Ron keeping a running commentary on the new Gryffindors, assessing each one for potential Quidditch ability. Harry tried to tune his friend out, but occasionally caught phrases like "Light build, good Seeker maybe. . . " and "Strong looking kid, might be a Beater there. . ."

At last "Young, Simon" was sorted into Hufflepuff and Professor McGonagall walked away with the Sorting Hat and stool. Professor Dumbledore stood, and looked over the tops of his glasses at the crowded Hall before him.

"School announcements," he began "can wait until after dinner. Let's eat!"

There was a wave of appreciative laughter as the food appeared magically on the great platters that lay along the centre of the house tables. Harry glanced at Hermione, wondering if his friend would be subjecting them to a revitalised S.P.E.W. campaign over the coming year. She had been rather quiet on the subject the year before, but with her O.W.Ls out of the way, he thought that she might find time to restart her campaign for equal House Elf rights.

But Hermione was silently working on her dinner. She smiled at one of Seamus' jokes, but seemed to be in no hurry to subject the others to a rant on the subjugation of 'lesser' races. Harry made a mental note to ask her about it when they had a free moment, and then promptly forgot about it as the remains of the main courses disappeared from view and were replaced with sumptuous desserts of all description. Trifles, cakes, rice pudding, blancmange, doughnuts, sweets and huge mounds of ice cream appeared in front of Harry and his friends, and soon everyone was tackling huge mounds of their favourite treats.

Eventually, though, even Crabbe and Goyle finished their fifth helpings of trifle and the desserts faded from view. Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet once more and clapped his hands.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome," he said. "It is wonderful once again to see so many bright and happy faces, ready for the start of another school year. I do so treasure this moment, as I know that by tomorrow you shall all be complaining about how much homework that you have been assigned by the sadists who have somehow managed to become Ministry recognised teachers.

"Nonetheless, and in spite of the work that we shall torture you with over the coming year, I do hope that you shall enjoy yourselves at Hogwarts. For some of you, it is your first time here, for some of you, your last. Wherever you come in the order of students, I pray that your time with us will be worthwhile, and that you shall appreciate that which we offer you.

"To that end, a few minor details. As always, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, the previous occupant of the post still feeling quite exhausted from his year in the role." Dumbledore smiled, and a few of his former pupils laughed.

"Your teacher this year is Professor Skeeter, a former member of Ravenclaw house and a graduate of the Parisian Club d'escrime de la Tour d'Auvergne. She will be focussing on training you in the use of weapons, as well as the usual curriculum for this subject."

There was a round of applause for the new teacher, who waved cheerily to the pupils.

"Weapons training? Just when I think this place can't get any weirder!" Ron said. Harry nodded in agreement.

"As always," Dumbledore continued, "the Forbidden Forest is, well, forbidden. The name should rather give that away, but you would be amazed how often people fail to fully consider this."

He paused, and cast an eye over the Gryffindor table.

"Of course, many of you will know, either personally or by reputation, the Weasley twins, Masters Fred and George. As they have now departed these hallowed halls, I imagine that our caretaker, Mr. Filch, will be on the lookout for those who feel the need to fill their illustrious shoes. Let those who wish to emulate the masters be warned."

"Fred and George will love hearing that they got mentioned this year," Ginny whispered to Harry. He nodded his head, smiling at the thought of the grins on the faces of the twins when they heard about their now legendary status at Hogwarts.

"Flying lessons will begin in the first week of October. These are compulsory for all first years, and anyone else who wishes to attend should see Madam Hooch. On a similar note, I have been asked to inform you that tryouts for the Gryffindor house team shall take place next Saturday morning, and that Ravenclaw will be assessing their own candidates on Saturday afternoon. Details to be posted on the respective house notice boards. I should imagine that Hufflepuff and Slytherin will be looking for fresh blood as well, but they have not as yet made their tryout dates known to me.

"New Prefects have been appointed as always, and I ask our sixth and seventh year Prefects to make them aware of their duties as soon as possible. As always, I especially expect a fine example to be set by our new Head Boy and Head Girl.

"Now, it is late and for all of us it has been a long day, so I bid you all a-"

Dumbledore was interrupted by the doors to the Great Hall, closed by Mr. Filch during the meal, opening suddenly and a tall, blonde-haired man in deep navy robes striding confidently into the Hall.

"Sorry I'm late," the man said in a loud voice. "What did I miss?"

The Great Hall fell silent again, many of the pupils unable to believe their eyes. It was only when Ron hissed in his ear that Harry knew that the man was really who he appeared to be.

"Harry," Ron spat, "it's _Lockhart!_"

__

To be continued…

****

Zahri: Getting Seamus drunk seemed like a good idea in the wake of how he wanted to spend his post-OWLs evening in Book Five. 

Having Draco turning good is almost the biggest task I've set myself as a writer. You'll see him off and on throughout the year, and you can decide for yourself how I've done.

Professor Skeeter feel asleep before anyone could ask her much of anything, although Hermione, of course, worked everything out straight away.

****

Eric2: Draco's transformation to a good guy will occur mostly outside of the story, but look for him to show up here and there, especially around Christmas.

****

Sherbert79: Harry trusts Ginny around Dean, of course. He's not the jealous type.

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Aggiebell: New chapters soon? Please?

The evolution of Ginny and Harry's relationship forms the basis for a lot of the changes to our favourite characters in this story. Rest assured that I've tried to keep it interesting all along the way.

Snape's always in a good mood, and missing out on the DADA post (again) to someone he sees as underqualified is not helping...

I do seem to have caught people's interests with Draco's about-face. I dropped a hint or two in The Dementors' Kiss, but I couldn't be too blatant. How good is he going to be? Ah, now that would be telling...


	10. Chapter Nine: Lockhart and Skeeter

**__**

Chapter Nine: Lockhart and Skeeter

Gilderoy Lockhart, internationally renowned author, former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and a liar of near fatal consequences, had returned to Hogwarts. Harry stared openly at the immaculately dressed wizard as he strode happily down the centre of the Great Hall, following in the footsteps of those who had been Sorted barely an hour before. As he proceeded, he waved happily to one or two pupils who said hello to him.

"Hello there! How are you? So _good _to be back!"

He stopped in front of the staff table and bowed to Professor Dumbledore.

"So sorry I'm late, Headmaster. Ran into a spot of bother coming by Heathrow. Those low flying jets play havoc with a man's broom."

Professor Dumbledore nodded understandingly, and Lockhart made his way to an empty seat at the side of the staff table. Dumbledore watched him all the way, and then turned to face the school once more.

"I am sure that many of you will know former Professor Lockhart," he said. "Although not returning to the staff this year, Mister Lockhart will be supervising a research project in the library on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. It may be the case that this project may cause certain books you are seeking to be absent when you require them, and for that my apologies. I shall leave it up to the individual members of staff as to whether or not they shall accept that as justification for missing homework, and for how long they shall believe it."

Lockhart waved cheerily to a seventh year Hufflepuff girl who blushed slightly.

"Smarmy sod," Harry heard Ron mutter.

"Now, unless there are to be any more surprises, we shall head off to bed. I wish you all a sound night's sleep, or at the very least that portion of it that you spend in bed. I give full discretion over lights out to our heads of houses."

The school slowly filed out of the Great Hall. Hermione lead the way for the Gryffindors, with Harry and Ron shepherding the crowd all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Bravery and honour," Hermione said to the Fat Lady, who swung open with a regal nod of her head. One by one the Gryffindors clambered through the portrait hole and into the common room.

"Right, first years, boys are up that stairway, girls up that one," Hermione pointed. "Your trunks and other belongings are already up there. If you have any problems, feel free to come find me or one of the other prefects. . ." Hermione tailed off, looking at Dean, who was standing there with his hand up.

"Yes Dean?" she asked cautiously.

"Hermione, I'm not as smart as all you wonderful Prefects are, and I've forgotten where the sixth year boys dormitory is. Is it all right if one of the big, strong Prefects comes and shows me where it is?"

"Of course it is, Dean," Hermione said, smiling. "I'm sure Ron will be happy to show you where to go."

"I'll show him," Seamus volunteered. "I'll show him what the best window for jumping out of is, as well," he added.

"Children," Hermione began, but Dean and Seamus had already begun throwing things at one another. She ducked as a pencil case flew past her head, and gasped as it hit the wall, erupting into a flock of canaries that flew up to the ceiling and found perches in the rafters.

Harry jumped to his left to avoid a spellbook that suddenly stopped, and flew back the way it had come from, catching Seamus unawares and in the stomach. He went flying into an armchair, and Harry recognised one of Fred and George's Boomerang Spellbooks. Ron enthusiastically replaced Seamus, pulling stuff from a paper bag that had _WWW_ monogrammed on it. Harry realised a little too late that Seamus and Dean had spent a great deal of money at Fred and George's shop. A little too late because once again Harry found himself on the wrong end of a Hay Fever Hand Grenade.

Coughing and sneezing, Harry fell into a chair, and watched through streaming eyes as Ron, Dean and Seamus were joined by nearly all of the other Gryffindors. Only Hermione and one or two of the younger students stayed out of the fight, the others all arming themselves from Seamus and Dean's seemingly endless supply of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.

When the fight concluded, almost half an hour later, the common room looked as though a very strange bomb had been detonated in the middle of the floor. It was coated in powder, slime, feathers, food of various descriptions, water and the sooty, smoking remains of several Birthday Bombs which Harry had appropriated from Dean's bag.

Hermione stood in the centre of the floor, almost unscathed except for where Ginny had managed to blindside her with a cream cake from her Food Fight Four Thousand. She tapped her foot patiently, her wand clasped in her hand. 

"If you're quite finished. . . Everyone in first through fourth years," she said in a low, menacing voice, "will go straight to your rooms. Fifth years and above will stay and clean all this up."

The younger pupils trooped towards their dormitories. They grinned at one another, several catching Dean or Seamus' eye as they walked past. Once they had all gone, Dean stood up and opened his mouth, but Hermione held up a hand to stop him.

"While I'm sure there were better, cleaner ways to do it, I'm also sure that this was an excellent way to welcome the younger students to Hogwarts," she said. "Which is why I'm not giving detentions to everyone involved. But at the same time, I'm not leaving all this for the house elves to clear up."

Behind her, Ron rolled his eyes, but drew his wand anyway.

"Now, I know you all know your cleaning spells. This should only take a few minutes, it's barely even a punishment, understood?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, Hermione," and even the seventh years joined in. Harry grinned as he drew his own wand, knowing full well that Hermione was turning into a force to be reckoned with in her own way. She was right about the time it would take as well, as with the combined efforts of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years all casting cleaning charms, tidying up the common room-wide mess took less than five minutes.

As Hermione talked to one of the fifth years, it struck Harry that she reminded him of Mr.s Weasley. She had a similar manner when it came to ordering people around. She simply assumed that people would do what they were told as she had come to the conclusion that that was the best thing for them to do. Mr.s Weasley approached her children and husband in the same way, rarely shouting at them when she wanted them to do things, but instead using a tone of voice that suggested that matters had already been settled. Harry smiled to himself as he wondered whether Ron saw the similarities.

"Knut for your thoughts?" A pair of arms slid around his shoulders and long hair fell across one side of his face as someone lent over him and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled up at Ginny, standing over him as he knelt by the common room's fireplace.

"They're not even worth a Knut," he said. "Just a silly thought."

"I should tell Hermione," Ginny laughed. "I don't think she's letting anyone have silly thoughts right now."

"You're right," Harry replied. "I'd better get to work then." He turned his back on her and made a great show of polishing the brass of the fireplace.

"I'm sure she'd let us have a break," he heard her say.

"No, you're right," he replied, stifling a grin. "Must work hard. Hermione knows all. Scrub scrub scrub, polish polish polish."

"Okay, okay," Ginny objected, pulling the duster from his hands. "How about. . . we go for a walk. I'll never get to sleep unless I get some exercise."

"All right," Harry said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Down by the Quidditch pitch?" Ginny suggested. "I'll leave my broom here," she said quickly.

"That'd be good. I'll get the Invisibility Cloak in a minute," Harry said, smiling at her expression. "But let's get this done first, or Hermione will kill us. Or hex us with fur, and I've got enough hair problems already."

*

Monday morning dawned bright and clear. It was a beautiful late summer day, and Harry felt warm and content as he headed down to breakfast beside Hermione and Ron. They took seats at the table beside Ginny and Lavender, a smile from Ginny bringing colour to Harry's cheeks that had Ron eyeing him suspiciously until the second round of toast.

In truth, Ginny and Harry had done little more than walk the previous night, and Ginny's smile had simply made Harry suffer one of his occasional embarrassment attacks.

__

That's my girlfriend, he thought. _Who cares what house Malfoy ends up in, or if there'll be a decent Quidditch squad when we leave here? Just being around someone as wonderful as she is enough for me._

Harry blushed into his porridge, wondering what Ron would say if he said that aloud.

__

"Not care about Quidditch? You're sick_, Harry. . ."_

"Timetables," Hermione said, as Professor McGonagall stepped down from the teachers' table and began circulating through the Great Hall. As she reached the Gryffindor table she fixed Harry, Ron and Hermione with a steely glare.

"The fat lady has informed me that someone was out of the Gryffindor dormitory after lights out last night. I shall ask the three of you and your fellow Prefects to ensure that this doesn't happen again. It is dangerous, and against school rules, and I will tell you now that if anyone should be caught out of bounds late at night then that person will be severely punished. Am I making myself clear?"

The three of them nodded quickly.

"Good," she said. "Now, here are your timetables. Mr. Weasley, may I say how pleased I was to see your name down for six N.E.W.Ts. If I may say so, it is about time that you started to stretch yourself academically, and not just when you are saving goals for the house Quidditch team."

"Good grief!" Ron gasped as McGonagall walked away. "Look at this!"

Harry looked down at his timetable and tried to work out what his friend was so worried about.

"What's wrong?" he asked eventually.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? Look at Wednesday and Friday, that's what's wrong!"

Harry looked at his timetable, really taking in the details for the first time. He winced, and looked at Ron.

"Since when do we work until five o' clock? And it's Potions last thing, both days!"

"At least you have Monday mornings off," Hermione pointed out. "I'll have to be up first thing for Arithmancy."

"Yeah, but you love Arithmancy, Hermione," Ron said. "You love all of your classes. Look, your boyfriend and your best friend are suffering, okay? Can we get some sympathy please?"

"Poor Ron, poor Harry," Hermione said flatly. "Poor Hermione, another year stuck with you two."

Harry chuckled, and even Ron grinned.

"Hey," he grinned. "I can go back to bed. We're not due in Dark Arts for another two hours."

"You see? Every cloud has a silver lining," Hermione said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my Arithmancy text from my dormitory."

She walked away, stopping to say hello to Professor Skeeter as the older witch came through the doors into the Great Hall. To Harry's surprise, Skeeter made her way around to him and Ron, staring at them balefully.

"I spoke to Professor Lupin last night," she said. "He let me in on a few things he thought I should know once I was committed to working here. No one told me that you two and Miss Granger have started a Duelling Club where you tutor the other students primarily in Defence Against the Dark Arts. No one told me that you, Potter, take on hungry packs of Dementors without much more than your wand and a smile. No-one told me that the three of you have made it through more jinxes, hexes, puzzles and spells than most Aurors face in their first five years on the job. All this and it's Monday morning to boot."

She leant forward so that her mouth was level with Ron and Harry's ears.

"I'll be expecting full information on the Duelling Club from the three of you by the end of the week. I have no problems with you doing what you do, in fact I'd like to help, and I'm assured by Professor Lupin that you won't start to consider yourselves as being above my class."

Ron and Harry shook their heads in mute agreement.

"That's good. And I'm sorry for snapping at you. Like I said, Monday mornings. Never a good way to start the week. There ought to be a law against them."

She straightened up and walked off. Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances, interrupted by Ginny.

"Well, I don't know how good she is against the Dark Arts," she said. "But she's got Ron to shut up. That's pretty impressive."

Ron, predictably, had a different take on things than his sister. "Let me see, Quirrell was possessed, Lockhart a liar, Lupin a werewolf, Moody a fake, Dumbledore is barmy, and now we've got Skeeter, who's, well, she's a _woman_."

Ginny paused, a slice of toast halfway to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Ron.

"You are _so_ lucky Hermione didn't hear you say that," Ginny said.

"Well, she is! Every woman I know is up one minute, down the next. I don't understand them. No-one can. Not even other women."

"Of course you could understand them, Ron, if you just had an ounce of common sense."

"Okay then," Ron challenged. "What's Skeeter's problem?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ginny asked. "When she was young, her family were attacked by Death Eaters. Because of that, she had to take remedial classes, and she probably still didn't do very well in her classes that year. She couldn't do a thing to stop the attack, and she probably had people making fun of her about getting low marks."

"Why?" Ron asked, interested in Ginny's version of events despite himself. "She got attacked by Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake."

"So did we, Ron, remember? We didn't lose marks."

"Yeah, but we were lucky."

"Anyway, on top of all this, Professor Skeeter is really young to be a teacher. Professor Lupin must have been doing his N.E.W.Ts if he was allowed to help her with her classes, so she's only in her very early thirties. If she went through teacher training, that's four years, time at the Club d'escrime de la Tour d'Auvergne would be several more years. We _know_ that she's not taught here before now, because there hasn't been a female teacher here of her age since Bill was here."

"So?"

"So, Professor Skeeter is our current expert on the Dark Arts, right? But coming back here reminds her that she didn't do too well when she was here. She's spent a lot of her time, maybe all of it, since she finished school learning Dark Arts defence and how to be a teacher. . . This is her first teaching job, her first class has got Harry, you and Hermione in it. Come on, Ron, you can work out the rest."

"You mean, because of all the stuff we've done, she's worried that we're going to be arrogant? She's nutters! We're not bloody Slytherins."

One or two younger pupils looked at Ron as though he'd done something terrible by insulting the Slytherins, but Harry and Ron didn't notice.

"It's not that she thinks you'll be arrogant," Ginny said. "It's that she thinks you probably could be arrogant, that you deserve to be. She's worried that she won't be able to teach you anything because you'll know it already."

Harry and Ron sat silently for a long moment. Ron eventually looked up at the staff table at Professor Skeeter, and scrutinised her closely. Harry looked at Ginny.

"Do you know anything about this Club de la. . ."

"Club d'escrime de la Tour d'Auvergne?" she asked. "A little. It's a school in France where they teach fencing, swordfighting, y'know? Sometimes people commit themselves to learning everything there is to know about fencing. It takes _years_, but I guess Professor Skeeter did it if she's a graduate."

"She was learning how to defend herself if there was ever another attack. . ." Harry said slowly.

"Not just that," Ginny said quietly. "If she's teaching Dark Arts, she must have been able to do that when she finished here. I think that she wanted an extra edge, and that's why she started learning how to fence. She must be fanatical about it, if she was prepared to spend all those years learning."

Harry thought about Ginny's words all the way back up to Gryffindor Tower. As Ron lay snoring on his bed, Harry sat by the window and leafed through the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. It held many pictures of his parents, as well as dozens of photos of his friends that had been taken over the last four years. Harry found himself stopping at one photo in particular, taken by Hermione at the start of the previous year. 

In the picture, Harry was sitting at a table staring intently at his Dark Arts essay, but the photo showed more then that as well. On the edge of the picture was Ginny, rocking back in her chair and laughing. The picture Harry let his gaze flicker upwards for the barest fraction of a second as he took in the sight of Ginny laughing, before his eyes dropped back down and refocused on his work. His expression changed slightly, a hint of an upward curve at the corner of his mouth, a slightly different glint in his eye. He started writing frantically. 

Harry could just make out the title of the essay that he had been working on, and remembered that he had scored highly on it. The same small smiled flickered across his features now, but it faded as he thought of Professor Skeeter, fanatically working on her fencing in order that she wouldn't be a victim again. Harry hoped that the woman had enjoyed her chosen life, but the thought of a life lived that way baffled him. He couldn't imagine her having time for friends, or playing Quidditch, or taking time to see a film at the cinema, or any of the things that he took for granted.

__

What good is a life if you don't live it? Harry wondered. Part of him recognised that people could give their lives in the service of others. He thought of priests and nuns, whose lives required constant service to their faith. He knew he could never be that selfless, knew that his life with Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the rest of his friends was too dear to him to give up in pursuit of some intangible goal. Even the prospect of bringing an end to Voldemort's reign of terror seemed remote. No matter what people might choose to believe, he still felt that Dumbledore would be the one to hand Voldemort his final defeat. If he started believing in some grand plan that would see him fighting Voldemort to the finish, then he might as well just give up now and hand his life over to Rita Skeeter to serialise. It would be entertaining, if lacking any serious-

Harry sat bolt upright in his chair, amazed that the connection hadn't been made earlier. He looked over at Ron, wondering if his friend had thought of it, but dismissed the idea. If Ron had connected Rita Skeeter, the scandal seeking reporter for the Daily Prophet, with Professor Maureen Skeeter, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, he hadn't said anything. Hermione, on the other hand, must have made the connection. He resolved to grill Hermione as soon as he saw her again.

__

I need to concentrate more, Harry thought as he remembered Professor Skeeter's introduction of herself the night before. _I was just enjoying being back with my friends and going back to school. I need to stay focused or that could really cost me._

Looking down at his watch, Harry realised that Ron and he had ten minutes to get to their first Dark Arts class. After what Ginny had said, it wouldn't do for the two of them to turn up late. Shutting his photo album in his trunk, he prodded Ron in the side until his friend woke up. Together, they hurried out of Gryffindor Tower and down the steps to their first class of the new school year.

__

To be continued…

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Aggiebell: I'm not a poet, but I enjoy writing the Sorting Hat's song. Notice how JKR skipped it in books two and three? I don't think she enjoys writing it :-p

Lee is learning how to coach Quidditch from Madam Hooch, mainly so I can have him around to commentate on the six Quidditch matches in this story.

Dean's line about the hat is one of my favourite lines in the story. Look for Dean to have a _much_ more expanded role in the story, starting in chapter 11. 

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Eric2: Hey, thanks. I'm trying to post new chapters once a week or so, along with any other stories that I might come up with along the way.

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Zahri:I'm glad you enjoyed the Sorting Song, it's been much more popular than I thought it would be. It does rather replicate the piece in OotP, but many of my ideas for this story were planned out in the week just before OotP was released, and a greater sense of house unity was one of them. Maybe me and JKR are on the same wavelength :-p

Josh won't be a Gary Stu, rather he's based on a guy I know who was one of the biggest fans of Dementors' Kiss and got a big kick out of the idea of joining the student body. He only has a small role here, but he'll be there or thereabouts whenever there are a lot of Gryffindors about.

Don't forget that Ron in this story is Quidditch vice-captain, and with the departure of the twins, Alicia and Angelina, there's four spots open on the house team this year. A future chapter will deal with the selection procedure of the new players at length.


	11. Chapter Ten: Swordswoman

**__**

Chapter Ten: Swordswoman

Harry caught up with Hermione in the queue outside the Great Hall. She shook her head when he opened his mouth, looking pointedly over his shoulder. Harry turned to see Professor Skeeter walking down the corridor towards them, her long hair bulled back in a severe bun and a gleaming sword in her hand. The tip of the sword clinked gently against the flagstones as she walked, and several students stopped to have a closer look as she passed. While the sight of staff members bearing weapons wasn't entirely uncommon -Hagrid, for instance sometimes brought his crossbow into dinner while Filch the caretaker occasionally carried a horsewhip around with a wistful look upon his face- it was a rarity to see a bare sword being carried around so openly.

"Good morning class," Professor Skeeter said as she walked past the queue of expectant pupils. They chorused a greeting of their own as she opened the doors to the Great Hall and watched them file past. As they walked in, they noticed that the house tables had been stacked on one side of the Hall, and their anticipation increased markedly.

Once everyone was in the Hall, Professor Skeeter closed the door and walked to the centre of the room. She turned slowly, taking in all of the class as they stood in a ring around her. At N.E.W.T. level, classes tended to be smaller, meaning that the four houses were studying the class at the same time.

"Good, all here," she said. If she was nervous about teaching her first class, she didn't show it.

"Now, I am carrying a sword as you may have noticed. Can anyone tell me what sort of sword it is?"

Several hands were raised, inevitably including Hermione's. Professor Skeeter turned to take in all the prospective answers, tapping the pommel of the sword against her chin as she did so. Eventually, she pointed at Ernie McMillan.

"It's a rapier, Professor," he said.

"It is in design, yes," she said. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Anyone else?"

Fewer hands were raised. Hermione was almost levitating, standing on tiptoes as she strained to be seen in front of anyone else. Harry marvelled for a second at his friend's enthusiasm for lessons even after more than five years at school.

This time, however, Professor Skeeter pointed at Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw.

"It's a magic sword, isn't it?" he said. "I mean it doesn't look quite real."

Skeeter awarded five points to Ravenclaw while Harry studied the sword more closely. Boot was right, it didn't look quite real. The handle and guard appeared real enough, but the blade wasn't made of metal. If anything, it appeared to be made of ice, slightly transparent but smoky at the same time. Harry squinted, struggling to make out any detail on a dark shadow that seemed to come out f the handle and into the icy blade.

"Now, can anyone tell me what is special about the spell I use to make my sword?"

Harry's hand went up almost without his thinking about it. He had noticed the empty sheath hanging from Professor Skeeter's belt, and had instantly drawn a conclusion.

"Yes, Potter," she said. Harry could almost feel the disappointment radiating off of Hermione, the only other person who had raised their hand.

"It's your wand, isn't it?" Harry asked. "You don't have your wand in its sheath on your belt, and I can see something dark inside the blade of your sword."

"Excellent. Five points to Gryffindor," Professor Skeeter said. "Yes, the spell used to make this sword transforms the bearers wand into the core of the sword, in the same way as each of our wands has its own unique core." 

She raised her sword so that everyone could see it clearly. "_Finite Incantatem_," she said loudly. There was a puff of steam, and she was suddenly holding her black wand in her hand.

"Now, the spell to make a sword is simple," she said. "_Gladius_."

There was a hiss, and the wand disappeared, replaced once again by Skeeter's sword. She brought her arm down, carefully guiding the sword until it was once more pointing at the floor.

"Now, I want you all to find several feet of free space and practise the spell. Make sure that your sword can hurt no one around you. Just as everyone has a different wand, so everyone will produce a different sword. Therefore please make sure that you are holding your wand with two hands, and that your wand is pointed at the floor. If I see anyone ignoring or disobeying these rules, you will lose fifty house points, no appeals, am I understood?"

There was a general chorus of agreement as the teenagers made room for each other on the floor. Harry looked around, gauging the different moods of his classmates. Ron looked determined, as he always did these days when he was working on a Dark Arts spell. Hermione stood beside him, their wands pointing away from each other, just in case. She had a determined look on her face, but the underlying excitement that Harry could see in Ron was missing from Hermione. Harry smiled slightly at the thought of Ron and his brothers as children. They had surely played at being knights, or pirates, or any of a thousand other games where swordplay was involved.

Further afield, Harry saw Terry Boot staring grimly at his wand as the class settled around him. Susan Bones looked around herself a little fearfully, evidently not at ease at the thought of bearing a weapon. Harry wanted to say something to her, but knew that that was Professor Skeeter's job, at least in class. As he watched, Skeeter paused by Susan to exchange a few words, and the Hufflepuff girl looked rather happier when the teacher walked away. Harry couldn't help but smile. He decided that he liked Professor Skeeter. She may have been as mad as most of the Hogwarts staff, but it seemed that she was a good teacher, and she seemed to also understand her pupils, a gift all too rare in Harry's experience.

"Right then," Professor Skeeter said. "After me, then. _Gladius_."

Her wand transformed once more into the rapier. She brandished it skilfully, letting it flick through the air in a series of lethal looking swipes. Bringing it down to her side, she looked around at her class.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Harry was first to cast the spell. "_Gladius_."

His wand grew heavy in his hands, and he could feel his grip loosening, except it wasn't loosening. Something was forcing his fingers apart. His wand stayed firmly in position, however, as though his fingers were still wrapped around it. A faint outline appeared, growing more and more opaque. Harry smiled as he recognised Godric Gryffindor's sword taking shape in his hand.

Around the room there were others trying the incantation. Terry Boot held a magnificent cutlass that could have been drawn straight from Long John Silver's belt. Susan Bones was wielding a katana that gleamed brightly in the morning sun. Hermione held a short sword, and was thrusting it experimentally at the air in front of her.

Ron stood as still as a statue. The sword he held was long, and probably very heavy, but Ron held it effortlessly. The hilt was ornate, the blade marked with writing that Harry suspected he'd never be able to understand if he studied Ancient Runes for the rest of his life. Hermione turned to face Ron with a smile on her face, a smile that turned to shock as she took in her boyfriend's magic sword. Harry saw his friend go pale, her own sword clattering noisily on the floor as it fell from her fingers. Professor Skeeter turned sharply to seek out the source of the commotion. When she saw Ron standing there as though entranced by the weapon he held, her hand shot to her mouth. She breathed deeply, evidently calming herself before she made her way over to Ron.

"Mr. Weasley," she said, her voice uneven. "Have you. . . Have you ever cast this spell before today?"

"What? Oh, no Professor," Ron said. He barely looked away from the sword he held, his gaze returning to it as though attached to it with elastic.

"Ron," Hermione breathed, her sword lying forgotten on the ground behind her. "Do you know what that sword is?"

Ron's gaze was still fixed on his sword, but he nodded his head slightly. "Sure, it's a broadsword. It's like the ones used by knights back in Merlin's time. I think the knight in my Patronus carries one just like it. It's a bit heavy, but it feels nice to hold."

"'It's a bit heavy. . . It feels nice to hold. . .'" Professor Skeeter drew her hand across her forehead. "Mister Weasley, as long as I've been fencing, which is longer than I care to think about, I have seen wizards cast the Gladius charm. Almost everyone who has read _The Once and Future King_, or pretty much any story about King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table dreams of conjuring one sword. Without exception, they have been disappointed.

"And now you, in the middle of my class, without any sword wielding experience in your history. . . You stand there and conjure Excalibur."

The sword dropped from Ron's fingers. "Bloody hell," he exclaimed as it clattered to the floor. Professor Skeeter winced.

Hermione crouched down cautiously and laid her hand on the hilt of Ron's sword. She picked it up with difficulty, the weight of the blade clearly proving difficult for her to balance.

Professor Skeeter took the sword from Hermione reverently, seemingly perfectly at home behind the blade. She swept it from side to side and up and down in a series of moves that Harry was sure were every bit as smooth as the ones she had run through with her own sword.

Professor Skeeter grunted softly. "Nice, but not right," she said. Hermione nodded. "You felt it as well, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded. "My sword felt as much a part of me as my wand," she said. "But that sword, Excalibur," she whispered the name of the legendary sword. "It just felt like, well, like a sword."

"Each sword is unique to its owner," Skeeter said, handing the faux-Excalibur back to Ron with a slightly sad look upon her face. "And you would no more feel comfortable with another wizard's sword than you would their wand."

Ron looked at his sword dubiously. "This is Excalibur?"

"There can be no doubt," Skeeter said. "I know a great deal about Arthurian legends, and this sword is most definitely Arthur's blade or," she amended "as much as a Gladius-cast can be."

She looked around the class, all of whom were looking at Ron.

"Has everyone managed to cast the spell?"

Two pupils shook their heads, but most brandished their swords carefully. Skeeter talked the two who were having difficulty through the spell, and soon both wielded blades of their own.

"Now then," Skeeter said. "I would appreciate a volunteer to assist me in the next phase of the lesson. Tell me, has anyone any experience of fencing?"

Only one person raised their hand. There was a long, heavy looking sword held in it. Dean Thomas stepped forward. "I do."

"Mr. Thomas, I believe?"

"That's right."

"Tell me about your experience with fencing."

"It all started when I was nine years old," Dean said. The sword hung listlessly by his side. "My brother, Andy, he was in a gang. Most of you don't know East London. It can be pretty rough. Lots of fighting between kids our age.

"Me and my brother were out at a West Ham match with some of his friends. Afterwards, one of his friends got into a fight. He was getting a hiding and my brother went over to help him."

Dean's voice was flat, his gaze fixed on a point above his classmates heads.

"My brother and his friend got battered by the gang this other kid belonged to. The rest of my brother's mates did a runner. Some of the ones who beat my brother gave me a kicking, until. . ."

Harry watched Dean uncomfortably. He found himself thinking about the time in his fourth year when he had found out the truth about Neville's parents. He had shared a dormitory with Dean for five years, been in nearly all the same classes as him, and he still hadn't known about this. He glanced at Seamus, Dean's best friend, and saw that the Irish boy was as surprised as he himself was.

"I ended up with a broken arm, and cracked ribs. My brother," Dean's normally pleasant face contorted into a scowl. "My brother ended up in a coma. He didn't wake up for three months.

"My Dad put me in for self-defence classes. He wanted me to make sure I'd never get beaten up again, and he also wanted to be sure I wouldn't go running around with any gangs. It worked, too," Dean said with a happy smile. "I met those kids a year and a half later, and two of them attacked me again, and I laid them out. The rest ran.

"The next day I got my Hogwarts letter," Dean said, his face fading back into blank neutrality. "Whenever I go home, I go back to the classes. My sensei taught me a lot, including fencing. Now, if I need to defend myself, or anyone else, then I can."

The class was silent after Dean's revelation. Many of the students shifted uncomfortably, but Harry watched his friend carefully. Dean shifted his weight, and brought his sword up in a high guard.

Opposite him, Professor Skeeter looked at him thoughtfully, then she nodded and raised her own sword. "En garde," she whispered.

Dean lunged forwards, the heavy looking blade of his sword slashing out at Professor Skeeter. She blocked easily, pushing Dean's sword off to one side. Dean whirled around, the blade flashing in the bright sunshine that came through the windows. There was a metallic clash as Professor Skeeter blocked the swing, and pushed Dean back.

"See how Mr. Thomas mixes his strikes," Professor Skeeter said as their blades clashed. "In a fight this would help keep your opponent off balance."

Dean grunted. "What's this, then?"

"An exhibition, Mr. Thomas," Professor Skeeter replied. She stepped forward and, for the first time, took the offence in the duel. It didn't last long. She moved nimbly, far exceeding Dean's own impressive efforts. Her sword flicked once, twice, three times and Dean was suddenly swordless. He scowled slightly as Professor Skeeter's sword dropped to her side, but the two combatants bowed to one another. Dean collected his sword and took his place once more beside Seamus, who leaned over to whisper something in his friend's ear. Dean shrugged, then shook his head.

"Right, form into pairs, please," Professor Skeeter said. She turned her sword back into a wand, and sheathed it by her side.

"I don't expect any of you to be able to fence properly. Try and concentrate on defending yourself from attack, rather than attacking."

"We can't all defend at the same time," Ron protested.

"Of course you can, Mr. Weasley," Professor Skeeter replied. "Don't attack, just block each other. You'll soon develop a rhythm. Now, before you begin," Professor Skeeter drew her wand once more. "_Hebere!_"

Harry glanced at his sword, and noticed the gleam fading slightly on the edge. He supposed that the spell cast by Skeeter had blunted the edge of their swords, in order to stop them hurting themselves. Harry looked around, smiling as he saw Ron and Hermione pairing off. Dean and Seamus were already stood opposite one another. Dean bowed to Seamus, who bowed back, a worried expression on his face at the thought of facing the only trained fencer among the pupils.

"Harry?" Harry looked around, and saw Neville before him. He held a curved scimitar almost as large as he was, and was struggling to hold it upright.

"Neville, where'd you get that sword?" Harry asked in surprise.

"It's my Gladius," Neville said patiently. "But I can barely lift it!"

Professor Skeeter approached them. "Mr. Longbottom, surely you know the Feather Light charm?"

Neville coloured slightly, and stammered. Professor Skeeter shook her head.

"No excuses Mr. Longbottom. I know that anyone who is in their sixth year at Hogwarts can do it. You have your wand in your hand. Cast the spell."

Neville grew furiously red, but stared at the dark shape of his wand inside his sword. Muttering under his breath, he tried to lift the cutlass again. He scowled, and looked up at Harry.

"You can do it, Neville. We practised it in duelling class last year, remember? Ron taught you."

Neville smiled tightly, and nodded. He stared at the cutlass again, and then, in a firm, calm voice, said: "_Wingardium Levitata._"

This time, Neville lifted the sword easily. Harry noticed a faint glow emanating from inside the sword, at the tip of the dark wand shape. Professor Skeeter followed his gaze, and nodded slightly.

"Sharp mind you have there, Mr. Potter. The wand does glow when a spell is cast with it in Gladius form. If nothing else, it stops someone from hexing you in a dark alley and then cutting your head off. It's also a lot harder to cast most spells when the Gladius is cast. You can't be duelling someone and throw an effective Leg Locker jinx at them, for example. In much the same way as any other spell would, the Gladius drains the magic from you the longer it is cast, and weakens any spells you try and cast while it is active. Of course, unique to the Gladius spell, as far as I know, is that you _can_ cast another spell while it is active. Don't underestimate that in a fight; Many wizards have died at the blade of a Gladius because they weren't ready for a Disarming charm or the Jelly-Legs jinx."

Harry looked over at Hermione, who looked a bit queasy at the thought of being stabbed with one of the many weapons which now filled the room.

Skeeter moved away, her less than cheerful words lingering behind as Neville and Harry bowed to each other. Harry shifted Godric Gryffindor's sword in his hand, the weapon feeling as very much at home in his hand as the real thing had more than three years before in the Chamber of Secrets. They awaited Professor Skeeter's command.

"You have five minutes before lunch," she said. "Begin!"

Harry and Neville moved forward, neither wanting to attack when they were supposed to have been focussing on defence. Eventually, Harry struck out in frustration, thrusting the flat of the sword toward Neville, who was rather more than an arm's length away. Nevertheless, Neville's sword came up, and there was a metallic clash as the blades met. Harry and Neville exchanged grins as they pulled back a step. Without attacking directly, Harry realised, they could fight without putting one another in danger. The blades clashed, and Harry settled into the rhythm of the combat. He found himself looking for openings in Neville's defences as the time passed. Once or twice, he thought, he could have broken through Neville's guard. He wondered if Neville had in turn spotted any opening that _he_ could have attacked.

The five minutes had passed, and Professor Skeeter brought the tentative duelling to a close with a loud "_Finite Incantatem_!"

Harry scraped his hair back from his eyes, his fist tightening around the shrinking sword as it turned back into his wand with a puff of surprisingly cool steam.

"Right then, lunchtime," Professor Skeeter said. "We didn't get as much time to practise as I had hoped. We'll pick up on Thursday afternoon. Don't forget your wands."

The class made its way quietly down to the Great Hall. Ron toyed listlessly with his food, making Hermione stare at him curiously.

"Are you okay?"

"Not hungry," he said, pushing his plate away. "I haven't done anything to be hungry yet."

"Double Transfiguration after lunch," Harry said. "You'll be hungry after that."

"Yeah," Ron said, staring at his goblet of pumpkin juice. "Hey, d'you reckon it means anything, me turning up Excalibur with that spell?"

"Yeah, it means you're the reincarnation of King Arthur," Harry said. Ron snorted, and smiled at his friend.

"Seriously, though?"

"I don't know, Ron," Harry said. "Maybe it's because you come up with a knight as your Patronus. Almost everyone else has an animal of some sort."

"Yeah, could be," Ron said. "It was pretty cool, though. Weird lesson, though. What about Dean?"

"Yes, where is Dean?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"He's over there," Harry pointed. Dean was standing by the Hufflepuff table, talking to Hannah Abbott and Ernie McMillan. A broad smile on his face, he laughed at a comment of Ernie's. He turned, and made his way over to the Gryffindor table, sitting next to Ron and Hermione.

"Good lesson that," he said, piling food onto his plate.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Harry asked. Dean looked up, and nodded.

"Me? Yeah, great," he said. "I just saw Hannah and Ernie. Reckon they'll be getting together soon. They look pretty cosy together."

Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice. "About time, too."

"Yeah, well, _you_ can't talk Weasley," Dean said. He stabbed his knife into a pork chop. "Shame, really. Hannah's really nice, and, well, Ernie's a bit of a stuck up twerp, isn't he?"

Harry smiled, but said nothing. Hermione leaned around Ron.

"You really liked her, didn't you?" she said. Dean looked at her in alarm, then his shoulders sagged.

"Yeah, she was nice. Not many witches in my part of the world. It was nice to have someone to talk to."

"You can still be friends, though, can't you?" Hermione asked. Both Harry and Dean shook their heads in response to this. They caught each others eye and grinned.

"Hermione, when you like a girl, it's really hard to be friends with her. Especially if she dumps you for someone else," Dean said.

"Never mind mate," Ron said. "Plenty more fish in the sea."

"You reckon? Seems like I missed out last year when everyone was hooking up. D'you reckon there'll be another Ball this year?"

"Bound to be," Ron said. "There was dress robes on the list again this year, right?"

"Yeah. Mine are getting a bit manky, though," Dean said. "I've had them since fourth year."

"So transfigure them into something else," Hermione said. "You must be able to do that."

"Yeah, I could transfigure it into a really long bit of thread," Dean chuckled. "I can draw, but I can't sew."

"Well, I'm sure that Parvati, Lavender and I can help, if you want," Hermione offered.

"Yeah, cheers Hermione," Dean said. "Listen, what'd you think of Skeeter?"

"I was wondering if she was related to Rita Skeeter," Harry said. Hermione nodded.

"Me too. I don't see any family resemblance, but I know that Rita Skeeter didn't have any sisters. I suppose they might be cousins. Rita was in Slytherin when she was at school, and Professor Skeeter was in Gryffindor. I can't imagine that they were very close when they were young, they probably don't even keep in touch now."

"How on _earth_-" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off.

"When we had that trouble with Rita during the Triwizard Tournament, I did some research on her. She's almost ten years older than Professor Skeeter, too. Maybe they're cousins. I know a lot of wizarding families are related."

"Yeah, that's true," Ron said. "Hey, d'you know what Mum told me once?"

The others shook their heads. 

"She said that virtually everyone is related if you go back far enough. She says that the Potters and Weasleys were related about three hundred years back."

Harry looked at Ron with a smile on his face. "Really?"

"Yeah, honest," Ron grinned. "Your great-great-great-great grandmother was our great-great-great-great-great grandfather's cousin. Weird, huh?"

Harry felt a strange sensation in his chest as he digested this bit of news. 

"Anyway, I don't think Professor Skeeter has anything in common with Rita Skeeter," Hermione concluded. "She seems really nice."

"Good swordfighter, too," Dean said. "I thought I could fight anyone, but she _battered_ me."

"We've got a lot to learn if we're going to be as good as her, then," Ron said. Seamus sat down beside Harry and grimaced at Ron's comment.

"We've got a long way to go to catch up with this one here," he said, pointing at Dean. "Defensive, Dean, you did hear that, didn't you?"

Dean grinned into his plate. "Sorry mate. Guess I got a bit carried away."

"Carried away, he says," Seamus scowled good-naturedly. "You chased me halfway around the room, you eejit."

"Practise, Seamus, practise," Dean said. "Besides, my sensei knocks me around the dojo every time we spar, and he doesn't bother with blunt swords. He uses kendo sticks, and they _hurt_ when they hit you."

"Hey, Dean," Harry said suddenly. "You want to help with the Duelling Club? None of us know anything about fighting with weapons."

Ron nodded enthusiastically, although he was prevented from speaking by the food in his mouth. He had apparently re-discovered his appetite. Hermione looked at him with a trace of amusement in her eyes, before turning to speak to Dean.

"Harry's right. We do need someone to show us weapons fighting. Professor Skeeter seems like a very good teacher, but there may be some pupils, especially the younger ones, who relate better to a younger instructor."

Dean looked as though his three friends had boxed him in, but eventually he nodded.

"Great," Ron managed, swallowing half a potato in one go. "You can show me how to do that spin thing you did earlier."

*

After lunch the sixth years moved on to Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. Harry had been looking for Ginny throughout lunchtime, but she hadn't been in the Great Hall, as far as he could tell. He joined the line outside the Transfiguration classroom just as she dashed past, her broomstick in one hand and Ron's fifth year Potions textbook in the other. She barely nodded to the others on her way past.

"She hasn't been out on the Quidditch pitch all through lunch has she?" Ron asked.

"I expect so," Hermione said. "She's really taken all that 'Weasley tradition' rubbish seriously."

"She's mad," Ron said. "She knows that Bill and Percy didn't play for the house team, what's she worried about?"

Harry's gaze followed Ginny down the corridor until she was lost from view among a crowd of seventh years. He wasn't happy about her missing lunch, but he wasn't sure how to tell her without provoking her temper.

"Harry?" He turned to see Hermione looking at him curiously.

"Just worried about Ginny," he said. She nodded.

"She'll be okay. I'll talk to her tonight if you want."

Harry shook his head. "I'll do it. I'll say, er. . ."

"That a Chaser needs to take care of herself or she's no use to the team?" Hermione suggested. Harry grinned in relief.

"Yeah, that."

Just then, Professor McGonagall rounded the corner and the line of pupils fell silent. She fixed them all with a steely glare, and unlocked the classroom. They filed silently into the class, taking their seats in a way that kept them grouped in their houses. McGonagall stared at them as they settled down, her lips pressed firmly together.

"Everyone up," she said at last. "Stand up, please," she repeated. Slowly, the class rose to their feet. McGonagall looked around, a slightly impatient expression on her face.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes you all to work more freely during your lessons," she said. "You will try, as much as is possible, to sit with people who are not in your house during my lessons. I am afraid that this does mean splitting up such notable groupings as Weasley, Granger and Potter, and Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, but nonetheless, the Headmaster feels it should be a useful experiment."

Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at each other, disbelief on their faces. Shrugging, Ron stepped away from the table they occupied and went and stood by Ernie, Hannah and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Slowly, the class followed his example, and by the end of five minutes, no-one was sharing a table with anyone from their own house. 

The last person to take his seat was Draco Malfoy, who sat beside Hermione and Justin, his expression blank despite his previously expressed loathing for the two Muggle borns.

Harry was sat between Crabbe and Terry Boot. He wasn't sure why Crabbe had chosen him to sit with, but one look at the Slytherin's malevolent expression suggested that he was looking to cause trouble.

"Right, good," McGonagall said as she walked around the classroom. She began handing out kittens, one to each table, which, she said, they would be learning how to Transfigure into fully-grown cats. The spell, which was called Aetas, was immensely complex. 

"I suspect that each group will require complete co-operation among its members for the spell to be at all effective," she said. "Do work hard, and don't mess about. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a muted chorus of agreement. Harry looked from Terry to Crabbe, and shrugged.

"Suppose we'd better get on with it," he said. Terry nodded, while Crabbe grunted. They drew their wands, and pointed them at the kitten, which was mewling weakly as it lay on the desk.

"On three? One, two, three, _Aetas_," Harry said. The spell was matched by Terry casting at the same time, but Crabbe grunted "_Ehtus_" and nothing happened.

"It's Aetas, Crabbe," Terry said. "Ay-eh-tass, okay?"

Crabbe nodded surlily. They pointed their wands at the kitten again.

"_Aetas_," they intoned. It wasn't perfect, but there was some reaction. The kitten rolled onto its front and stood up shakily. Professor McGonagall, who was circling the room, nodded encouragingly as she walked past.

"Well done boys," she said. "I'd say that the kitten has been aged about two weeks. Not bad."

There was a minor distraction at the front of the classroom as Hermione's table succeeded in turning their kitten into a fully-grown cat. The cat, which didn't seem to enjoy the process, swiped at Malfoy with its claws, leaving a nasty set of scratches on the Ravenclaw's cheek. He hissed in surprise, but sat still while Hermione, used to dealing with Crookshanks, swept the cat into her arms and pinned it in one place while McGonagall swept forward and reversed the spell. The cat shrunk quickly back to a kitten, and McGonagall quickly healed Malfoy's cheek.

The rest of the lesson passed without too many more incidents. Ron, who was working with Ernie and Blaise Zabini, managed to grow his kitten into a docile Siamese that rubbed its head against Blaise's cheek. Ron scratched the cat behind its ears, pleased with the spell the three of them had cast. At the end of the lesson, McGonagall made her way around the room again, collecting the cats and turning them back into kittens, which mewled in frustration as they shrank back into their miniaturised forms.

"I suggest you get used to these kittens," McGonagall said. "We shall be working with them extensively this year."

Hermione was smiling as they left the classroom.

"That was a really nice lesson, wasn't it?" she said. "Those kittens were just _adorable_."

Harry, who had no feelings either way about cats, just shrugged. Ron slipped his hand into Hermione's.

"Can I practise on Crookshanks, Hermione?" he asked innocently.

"Only when you can do any of those spells on your own, Ron Weasley," she replied, grinning.

"Crookshanks would be the first to volunteer himself for duty," Ron said. "Think of all those times in third year when he put himself in danger for us."

"For _me_, Ron. He didn't like you."

"You can talk to your cat now? Hey, Harry, Hermione is a Kittytongue."

Hermione scowled at Ron, who just grinned back at her.

"No-one, not even I, will be practising on Crookshanks," Hermione said. "Go and find Mr.s Norris if you want to practise."

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said suddenly. "If we're going to be using those kittens to do loads of magic on, won't that make them resistant to spells or something?"

"I shouldn't think so," Hermione said. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall knows what she's doing."

"How was working with Malfoy, Hermione?" Ron asked as they made their way up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. She was quiet for a moment, considering her answer.

"Unusual," she decided on. "It was strange to have him sitting beside me and not spewing bile and vileness everywhere. He made a very good suggestion at one point that didn't even occur to me. I suppose he does belong in Ravenclaw."

Ron shook his head in horror. "Next you'll be telling me I can't even daydream about him as a ferret."

"Ron. . ."

"No, it's okay. I really don't think about it that much. I mean, you wouldn't say that five times an hour was obsessive or anything, would you?"

Harry laughed, which seemed to placate Hermione somewhat. She gave the Fat lady the password ("Bravery and honour.") and they clambered through the portrait hole to find Dean Thomas scowling at Seamus.

"Well, it's not my fault, is it?" the Irish boy was protesting.

"Oh no, not at all," Dean yelled. "'Woy nut tell us Din's fertune, Professor?' You pillock!"

"Dean, that is one _horrible_ attempt at an Irish accent, mate," Ron said, stepping between the two friends. "What happened?"

"Well, we were in Divination," Seamus began. He held up his hands at the grimaces on the faces of Harry, Hermione and Ron. "I know, I know, but we had to do _something_ for our fifth N.E.W.T. Anyway, Lavender said she wanted me in there with her. I told Dean he didn't have to come in with me, but he insisted."

"Yeah, and I also insisted on sitting at the back and not drawing attention to ourselves." Dean said. "Pillock," he added, seemingly unwilling to let the idea go.

"Yeah, well, we wouldn't have had any problems if you hadn't hung around to try and chat up Padma Patil," Seamus said.

Ron and Harry regarded Dean in shock.

"You were chatting up Padma Patil?" Harry asked.

"Didn't you go out with her sister?" Ron added.

"I went with Parvati to the New Year Ball," Dean said, reining in his temper. "Nothing happened. Nothing happened with Padma, either, because this twerp was standing behind her the whole time pointing at his watch and pulling faces. So we dashed off to Divination, and of course we were the _first ones there_," he turned to yell at Seamus. "And this idiot suggested she read my palm to pass the time until the others arrived."

"So, what are you going to die of?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"He's not," Seamus said, a grin on his face. "D'you want to hear what the old hag said?"

Hermione's face contorted at the thought of agreeing with insulting a Hogwarts teacher. Eventually, she settled for finding an empty table away from the four boys and getting to work on the homework Professor Vector had set her for Arithmancy.

"She said, and I quote, 'You will betray a friendship but make it stronger then ever afterwards, you will fall once and then once again, you will rise bright and strong and you will play your part.'"

"Well, that's not so bad," Ron said.

"That's not what he's got a cob on about," Seamus grinned. "Trelawney's decided to make Dean our personal study this year. She was mightily impressed with the reading she gave him."

"Yeah, well, it's all rubbish," Dean said, subsiding into a chair. "If she knew anything, she'd be able to tell me if I'm going to make it onto the Quidditch team this year. When I asked, she just said 'The Eye does not lower itself to such mundane matters, Mr. Thomas.'"

"I didn't know that you fly, Dean," Harry said.

"A bit. Probably not good enough to make it on the team, but I've got to give it a go right? I mean, it's Quidditch."

"Good man," Ron said. "If you can swing a club like you do a sword, you'd make a great Beater."

"That's what I figured," Dean said. "So, what d'you captains reckon to me and this idiot as your Beaters?"

Harry grinned as Seamus rounded on his friend and they started bickering again. As he and Ron enjoyed the show, neither of them noticed Josh Cochran, the tall American fifth year, watching the group closely.

*

"You might want to read that," Moody said, tossing Malfoy a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Thank you, but no," Malfoy said, not moving his manacled hands to pick up the newspaper. "I'm sure that the latest news about the hunt for Sirius Black is fascinating, and the 'At Home' feature with the drummer of the Weird Sisters still more so, but I feel that I should be better off without polluting my mind any further than the potions I am forced to drink each day."

"Open it to page eleven, Malfoy," Moody growled. "About halfway down. I should think it'll interest you."

Malfoy sighed, the faintest hint of a scowl crossing his face. He reached for the newspaper, the Dark Mark a bright red stain against his pale forearm. Slowly, he pulled the paper towards him, and fumbled it open to page eleven.

"'First Hogwarts Resorting in Two Hundred Years,'" he read aloud, before shutting the paper and pushing it back across the table to Moody. "The boy was always a disappointment," he commented, his gaze for once losing focus. "Took after his mother's side of the family, of course. Much too sensitive. He spent five years trying avenge a thoughtless slight against him by Harry Potter, and now he has abandoned his heritage. Well, a disappointment, as I said, but hardly a surprise. If he had gone to Durmstrang, as I wished, then he would have been far more mature. Dumbledore has coddled him."

Moody sat silently and stared at him, taking a swig from his hip flask.

"Really, Moody, did you expect me to become tearful and make a full confession of my guilt? Draco has abandoned his family, apparently believing that I am guilty. Well, when I am proven innocent, then he shall not be welcomed back to Malfoy Manor. If a lack of forgiveness is a crime, Moody, then by all means lock me away. However, that is the only crime of which I am guilty."

Moody remained silent, save for a grunt of effort as he stood once more and walked away. He paused by the door.

"You can keep the paper," he said. "Interesting article in there about the rebuilding of Hogsmeade after your attack on it." With that, he was gone.

Malfoy didn't touch the paper, instead sitting quite still until a guard came to take him back to his cell.

__

To be continued…

****

Aggiebell: Hermione is quite the girl. The bad news *sob* is that she and Ron take something of a backseat for big parts of this story. I have my reasons. Honestly.

Ginny is just cool. I do have a problem not turning her into a goddess in my stories, simply because I love the character so much.

Harry's moment of realisation will be investigated in much greater depth over the course of the story.

****

Zahri:For my purposes, Lockhart isn't quite the idiot he is in Book Five. While he'll have his moments, he's recovered and seen the error of his ways. As for the Ministry wizards, their sole purpose is to investigate the Temple of Le Fay. If they ruffle some feathers along the way, well... ;-)

I'm not sure I thought that deeply about Rita - she's Professor Skeeter's cousin and wasn't present at the attack - but it's a great idea. 

****

Eric2: Thanks! I'll do my best.

****

Sherbert79: Poetry is not my strong point. I'm more surprised that *any* of the lines scanned, rather than that some didn't.

Lockhart's recovery is simply a case of three years spent under the care of the witches and wizards at St Mungo's.

Every school needs teachers like Snape, and I doubt the inter-house rivalry would ever die. Having come from a school with six 'houses', though, I do have the feeling that lessening the competitiveness wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.


	12. Chapter Eleven: The First Argument

**__**

Chapter Eleven: The First Argument

It was an extremely difficult first week back at school for Harry. Dumbledore's new policy of mixing students from different houses when they were in classes together kept everyone on their toes. Harry couldn't rely on Hermione to keep him in touch with the classes as they went by, and he found himself struggling badly in Potions and Herbology without her. It didn't help that Crabbe or Goyle seemed to make a beeline for him whenever they were in class together. It was almost as though they were under orders. When Harry mentioned it after Potions on Wednesday, Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"Harry, you of all people should know what their Dads are," she said.

It took Harry several seconds before his mind flashed back to the graveyard he'd visited at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, and to Death Eaters named Crabbe and Goyle taking oaths of loyalty to Voldemort.

"I guess I never really made the connection," he said slowly. He felt rather stupid.

"It's understandable," Hermione said. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to think about that night very much either. I wouldn't have thought that our Crabbe and Goyle have anything to do with it, but maybe their Dads have told them to keep an eye on you, maybe try and make an accident happen."

"Yeah, well, they managed that bit okay," Harry scowled. Goyle had managed to melt Harry's cauldron during Potions, flooding the classroom with a Dissolving Potion that taken the soles off of a lot of people's shoes before they could scramble on to their desks. Snape had sneered at Harry and taken twenty points from Gryffindor. Goyle, who had stupidly stood still as the potion removed his shoes, socks, and several layers of skin, got away without points being deducted, but had had to be taken to the hospital wing where he would be staying for several days while Madam Pomfrey healed him.

It was several days before Harry got a chance to catch up with Ginny. They had kept missing one another. Harry had been dragged out to the Quidditch pitch by Katie and Ron while Ginny was coming down to breakfast on Tuesday. On Thursday, Ginny had arrived in the common room late in the evening, just as Hermione was bullying Harry into studying obscure potion recipes that she freely admitted probably wouldn't even come up on the Potions N.E.W.Ts.

On Friday afternoon, Harry saw Ginny and Hermione together outside the library as he and Ron made their way to Charms. Harry wanted to go over and speak to the girls, as Ginny in particular didn't look very happy, but Ron dragged him off to Flitwick's classroom.

"C'mon," he said. "Whatever's going on, let them sort it out. If we need to pick up the pieces, I'd rather not do it in the middle of the corridor."

When Hermione arrived in Charms, she took a seat with Pansy Parkinson and Ravenclaw's Lisa Turpin. Harry didn't get a chance to talk to her, and when the end of the lesson came, she stayed behind to talk to Professor Flitwick. She didn't arrive at Potions until Snape was stalking toward the class from the opposite end of the corridor, so Harry and Ron didn't have a chance to say anything. They filed into the classroom and automatically divided themselves randomly among the tables. Snape scowled at them.

"As your practical session on Wednesday afternoon showed, the concept of mixing competent students with the rest of you dullards is seemingly futile. Nonetheless, we shall continue with Professor Dumbledore's scheme, if only to ensure that those among you who lack any skill in Potions have ample opportunity to accept your dismal fate, and drop this class to save my time."

He scowled at Harry, and then snapped his wand up and pointed it at the blackboard.

"This is the potion we shall be making next lesson. There is the first part of the instructions, the next two parts are in your textbooks, and the final part can be found in the library. You know full well that this is not an easy course, so I won't be sugarcoating it for you. Start working!"

Harry struggled through the class, ignoring Crabbe as the brutish Slytherin spattered ink all over the desk. A Shield Charm blocked the worst of it, but Harry was dreading the practical session on the following Wednesday. He trudged to dinner behind Ron and Hermione, who seemed pleased enough with their partners. Ron had once more ended up paired off with Blaise Zabini, and Harry couldn't help but smile at Ron's description of the Slytherin as "the only decent thing to have come out of that house since Fred and George stole Marcus Flint's mum's homemade chocolate fudge brownies."

Dinner wasn't as pleasurable an experience as it could have been, either. Hermione mentioned S.P.E.W. for the first time in a long time. It apparently hadn't been long enough for Ron, however, as he immediately dropped his fork and slapped his hands over his ears. Undeterred, Hermione continued her speech, accompanied in the background by Ron's increasingly loud rendition of the Hogwarts school song.

"-I mean, it's dreadful really-"

"-whether we be old and bald-"

"-I spent most of last year researching-"

"-could do with filling-"

"-talked to Dobby and Winky, of course-"

"-some interesting stuff-"

"-freedom is a basic right-"

"-dead flies-"

"-have a really good case-"

"-we've forgot. Just do-"

"-hoping for some new converts-"

"-our brains all rot."

"-really go places!"

Harry nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner, but his eyes had glazed over as Ron entered the second stanza of the song. He was sure that Ron had deliberately sung it far worse than was absolutely necessary, but Hermione had ignored him completely. The same couldn't be said of the rest of the school, however, many of whom had been laughing at Ron's tone-deaf butchering of the tune. Professor Dumbledore had watched from the teacher's table with an amused glint in his eyes, and had applauded loudly when the song came to an end.

"Simply wonderful, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore had said. "I do hope that you will be serenading us again at this year's first meeting of the school Duelling Club. It will be held tomorrow evening, here in the Great Hall after dinner."

Hermione had laughed at the look on Ron's face, but had ignored him for the rest of the meal. As soon as the last of the food disappeared from the plates, she stood up and hurried from the Hall, headed, Harry was sure, for the library. What with one thing and another, he hadn't had the chance to talk to her about Ginny, he realised with a sigh.

"Hermione's a nutter, isn't she?" Ron asked as they walked up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower.

"She's very committed," Harry said.

"She should _be_ committed, you mean," Ron laughed. "When's she going to give up all this spew stuff?"

"It's important to her," Harry replied. "She's doing something she thinks is right."

"But house elves like the way they have things now," Ron said. "Okay, in the past, things weren't great for them, but it's not like they have to feed off scraps, or sleep outside, or anything like that anymore. All that went out ages ago."

"You know Hermione thinks that's not enough."

"Yeah, I know that. But elves are happy with what they get."

"They were probably happy with what they had when they were treated like dirt, though."

"Of course they weren't. Things are better now."

"And Hermione wants to make them even better."

"You're going nuts, too," Ron said irritably

"I'm just saying, you and Hermione wouldn't argue half as much-"

"Harry," Ron cut him off. "Arguing with Hermione is fun. _Making up_ is fun. Haven't you and Ginny had an argument yet?"

"No," Harry replied.

"You'll see what I mean when you do, mate."

Harry followed his friend through the portrait hole. He was thankful that Ginny and he had a much quieter relationship than Ron and Hermione. All that arguing might be fun, as Ron claimed, but it all seemed very tiring. 

__

It must be pretty stressful as well, Harry thought. _I can't imagine fighting that much with someone and still liking them. I guess Ron and Hermione are very different from me. I wonder what it is about arguing that Ron likes so much. Apart from the making up, of course. How can he -they- enjoy not knowing whether or not they're going to be together after the next time they talk?_

Harry was just about to ask his friend what the appeal in existing in a state of constant uncertainty was, when Ginny clambered though the portrait hole.

She was munching on an apple as she came through the portrait hole with two of her friends. Harry was pleased to see she didn't have her Arrowhead with her. He waved to her, and she came over to him, a big smile on her face.

__

I don't want to do this.

"Hey Ginny, how are you?" he asked

"I'm okay. How are you two? I feel like I haven't seen you all week." Ginny grinned, and took a seat between Harry and Ron.

"We're okay," Harry replied. "Listen, did you miss lunch today?"

The smile vanished from Ginny's face as though she'd just swallowed a gobletful of Wolfsbane potion. Ron looked at Harry in amazement.

"Why are you asking?" she said.

"Because we don't want you missing meals," Harry said evenly.

"Why not? Everyone does it sometimes. I know Hermione's worked through meals before now. I know you've skipped meals before matches because you were too nervous, and I worried about you because of it."

"Then you should understand why we're worried if that's what you're doing."

"_We're_ worried? You're the only one talking here, Harry. And no, I don't understand. Why is it okay for me you to do something, but not me? You know how important it is for me to make the team this year, Harry. You helped buy me my broom, so you _should_ understand."

"Maybe buying you the broom was a mistake," Harry said. He regretted it almost instantly, but it was too late. Ginny's face contorted into a scowl that Harry had never seen before.

"So Ron and you can obsess about Quidditch but not me?" she said quietly

"I still get my work done," Harry laboured on, even as he wondered if he was arguing from the right side.

"And so do I," Ginny scowled. "Thanks to you, and Ron, and Hermione, I'm well caught up. What do you think I've been doing all week?"

"I. . ." Harry stammered. _She's been working, not flying. Oh, Merlin. _"We won't always be able to help," he said quietly.

"Then I'll have to learn to cope by myself, won't I? Stop treating me like I'm six years old, Harry. I get enough of that from my family."

Ginny stormed off. A chess match between Katie Bell and Dennis Creevey was terminally interrupted when the board leapt ten feet into the air as she passed. Harry winced. Most fifteen-year old witches had enough control over their magical powers that wandless telekinesis only occurred when they were truly upset. The chessmen ricocheted around the room as Ginny disappeared up the stairs towards her dormitory. There was the sound of a door slamming.

"That's why we don't get Ginny angry," Ron said evenly as he ducked in his seat to avoid a ricocheting rook. "Filthy temper, really."

"I believe you," Harry said. "Now what do I do?"

"Dunno mate," Ron said, his voice muffled as he ducked under the table to avoid the rook as it came back the other way. "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

He clambered out from under the table, the rook frozen in one hand.

"Normally I'd say wait for her to get over it," he said. "But you're her _boyfriend_. You may have to apologise in front of everyone. And I mean everyone. She may want Mum and Dad and Charlie and everyone around to hear it."

Harry sat in his chair, scowling at nothing much. He looked up to see Hermione coming through the portrait hole, laden down with books. Ron dashed over to help her, earning a grateful look from his girlfriend, who seemed to have forgotten their earlier disagreement. She slumped into a chair next to Harry and smiled wearily at him.

"I managed to get all the books on our extended reading lists for this year. Even the Care of Magical Creatures books for you two. We can really get working now."

Harry smiled slightly as Ron staggered up to the table. His friend looked exhausted just from carrying the stack of books across the common room. 

__

How on earth did Hermione manage?

Then he saw the wand in her hand, and knew that Hermione had put a Feather Light charm on the books, which had immediately been broken by her handing them over to Ron. He got up and took some of the books from Ron while Hermione chattered happily away about all the extra points that they could earn from the additional reading.

"Hermione, shut up a moment will you," Ron said. His voice was muffled once more by the stack of books that were piled up to his eyebrows, even with Harry's help in reducing them.

"What is it now, Ron?" Hermione said.

"It's Ginny," Harry began, as Ron staggered backwards under the weight of the books.

"Oh, is that all? It's fine, Harry, don't worry."

"It is?" Harry asked. _How does Hermione know? She hasn't seen Ginny yet. Hang on a second. . ._

"What's fine, Hermione?"

"Ginny. She's not been flying all this time."

"Oh."

"She's been in the library, getting caught up on her work, and getting ahead in some subjects as well. She wanted to borrow my Potions notes from last year, and I gave them to her at lunchtime. That's when I talked to her." Hermione smiled, and took a Transfiguration text from the tower of books beside her.

Behind Hermione, Ron was teetering under the weight of the books. Every pupil in the common room seemed to be watching him expectantly.

"Er. . ."

Hermione looked up from the book she had opened.

"Yes, Harry?"

"We, er, that is I talked to Ginny just before you came in."

"What happened?"

"Well, I say talked. . ."

"Did you have an argument?"

Harry nodded morosely, his gaze settling unseeingly on Ron's continuing problems with Hermione's private library.

"Well, I'm afraid it was only a matter of time before you had your first one," Hermione said gently.

"We're not like you and Ron, though," Harry said, turning back to face her. "What if she decides to break up with me?"

"What did you say to her?"

"I said I was concerned she was missing meals because she was flying," Harry admitted. "It must have seemed like I didn't trust her to keep her word."

"I'm sure Ginny doesn't really think that," Hermione said. "You could certainly have been a bit more tactful, but she'll realise that you were just being concerned about her. You have to realise, Harry, that Ginny is really intelligent-"

"I know," Harry cut in. "She seems a lot smarter than me, most of the time."

"Yes, well, taking that into account, she'll work out that you weren't trying to be rude to her. You'll have to apologise, of course."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "Ron already pointed that bit out to me. Any ideas?"

There was a crash behind them as Ron's balance finally went and he fell to the ground, scattering books far and wide as he went. The Gryffindors who had been watching screamed and yelled as they deflected the unleashed books that were flying towards them. One book, _Levitation for the Lightheaded_, made its way up to the ceiling of the common room, where it hovered gently.

Hermione looked at Ron with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

"You could start by getting her a picture of all this," she suggested.

*

Harry didn't have the first clue how to apologise effectively. Hermione wouldn't help. She said that whatever he did, he had to learn how to undo himself. The only suggestion she would give was that he made sure that any apology came from his heart.

With that in mind, he stayed up half the night by the common room fire. Dobby the house elf came and went, wisely ignoring Harry as he tidied up the detritus of a busy day in the tower.

By three o'clock, Harry had a roll of parchment full of suggestions that he had scribbled down excitedly and then crossed off in frustration. The _Marauders' Manual_ lay open on one knee but, while it had turned out to be full of helpful hints for how to apologise to your girlfriend, nothing really struck Harry as being right. He glanced over his list again, willing to consider anything.

__

Give her my broom? No, that's stupid, I still don't want her getting too worked up about Quidditch, and I don't want to get stuck with her broom in return.

Flowers are nice, I suppose, but not exactly from the heart.

I could fly up to her window, and whisk her away from a moonlit picnic, but she needs her sleep for tomorrow. She'd probably chuck me off the broom when we got over the lake anyway.

Poems? Does she even like poetry? What girl doesn't like poetry. I can't write poetry. Okay, waste of time.

It's too late to get the Weasleys together for a big party. Ron would say that I should learn to plan my arguments in advance. How about I don't have any more. Ever. From now on I just say 'Yes' to whatever Ginny wants.

What would Fred and George do? They'd take their girlfriends off to the Prefect's bathroom. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. One Weasley mad at me is enough.

Blimey, she's got a temper on her. Okay, from now on, I listen when Ron says stuff like that.

Okay, what would Ron do? He'd do something kind and simple. He'd help Hermione with something she was finding difficult. Oh. . .

*

Hermione was the first one down to the Common Room the next day. She gave a small jump when she saw the slumped figure lying at one of the tables. The figure grunted slightly, shifting in what Hermione knew from experience was a sleeping position that would lead to backache and stiffness unless this figure -Harry, she realised- was awakened fairly soon.

"Harry?" she poked him in the ribs. "Wake up, Harry."

Harry's head rose slowly from his arms. He groaned loudly as he straightened up, and Hermione winced in sympathy as she heard his joints and spine popping and cracking.

"Have you been down here all night?" she asked.

"No," he sighed. "I went for a walk about half-three." He pointed at the table, on which a sleek, highly polished broom was lying.

"Is that. . ."

"Ginny's," he said. "I had to fetch it out of the broom shed. I nearly ran into Filch."

"Good job you had the Invisibility Cloak," Hermione said. Harry coloured slightly in the early morning sunshine, and Hermione looked closer at him.

"You _did _have the Cloak, didn't you?"

"I, er, didn't think to get it," Harry admitted.

"Harry! You heard what Professor McGonagall said. Anyone out of bounds this year will lose points. Lots of points. I can't _believe_-"

"It was worth it, Hermione," Harry said. "At least, it will be, if Ginny likes it."

Hermione's expression softened. "I should take points off you just for being out of bounds," she said. "Even if you are a Prefect, I imagine Professor McGonagall would agree with me."

"You won't, will you?" Harry asked.

"Oh, of course not Harry, but honestly, next time think before you act, okay?"

"There won't be a next time," he said. "No more arguments. I'll always think carefully before I act, I'll make sure I get my facts straight, no more meddling in things that aren't my concern."

"You said that after the trouble we had with Norbert," Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. Worked, didn't it?" For the first time since Hermione had come down, Harry smiled slightly.

"Yes, well, what have you done to Ginny's broom?" she asked.

"I've been using the polishing kit you got me for my birthday a few years back," Harry said. "I trimmed one or two of the bristles, polished the handle, topped up the cushioning charm, and I rewound the handgrip. Oh, and I polished it, of course."

"It looks very nice," Hermione said. "Do you think Ginny will like it?"

"I hope so," he replied, looking nervous. "I know she liked it before, she liked it the way Alicia left it, but this way it'll perform better. I got her these, too," he said, holding up a pair of dragon hide gloves. "These were Alicia's as well, and she's about the same size as Ginny. I fixed the rips, everything."

"You've put in a lot of effort," Hermione said with a smile. "I'm sure Ginny will approve."

"I hope so," Harry repeated. "What time is it?"

"Just after seven, why?"

"I need your help. I need to do something else. . ."

"What?"

"Brighten this place up a bit."

*

Over the next hour, every one who came down to the Gryffindor common room was dragooned into helping. Harry promised he would repay everyone in whatever way they wished, something he hoped he wouldn't end up regretting. By the time Ginny came down, dressed severely in a black sweatshirt, black jeans and with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, he was putting the finishing touches to his scheme.

The sight that greeted the still-furious Ginny was one of vibrant, magnificent colour. Harry, Hermione, everyone who had chipped in had created a botanical gardens in the Gryffindor common room. Every flat surface was covered in plants and flowers, all various shades of red, yellow and orange. Ginny turned in a circle, an expression of wonder on her face that Harry hoped boded well for what he would do next.

"Ginny?" She turned to face him.

"Did. . . did you do this?" He nodded.

"I wanted to say sorry for not trusting you," he said. "I also did this. _Accio_ Arrowhead!"

Ginny's broom leapt off the table and into Harry's hand. He held it out to her and watched her eyes grow wide.

"Is that mine?" she asked. He nodded cautiously.

"Do you like it? I know you liked it the way it was, but you said it had a slight list and the hand grip was a bit scratchy and I got you these gloves as well and. . ."

Ginny didn't hear what Harry was saying. She reached out a hand and took the broom from him. It felt right. It felt more than right. It felt better than it had done before. The balance was perfect. The broom vibrated slightly in her hands, not much, but just enough to tell her that the magic was fully charged and that it was ready to fly.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked anxiously.

She smiled at him, and he beamed in sheer relief. He didn't need to hear her say it to know that he'd got it right.

*

Madam Hooch and Lee Jordan were waiting in the stands when Harry, Ron and Katie took to the Quidditch pitch for the team tryouts. They had a list of everyone who had put their names down for the different positions, and were trying to work out the best way of putting everyone through their paces. Katie suggested that Harry act as a Beater while she flew with potential Chasers against Ron.

"I'm no good at playing Beater," Harry said. "Why not try out the Beaters at the same time. I can fly interference like I would in a normal match."

"Okay. You haven't told anyone to go easy on Ginny, have you?" Katie asked.

"No," Harry replied. 

Ron shook his head. "She'd kill us if we did that," he said.

"Good. Had to be sure," she said. Harry and Ron nodded their understanding. The three of them turned to face the expectant crowd, which seemed to be made up of most of Gryffindor. Harry could see the Creevey brothers standing right at the front, Dennis Creevey in particular looking, as Ron would put it, "like he'd make a good Seeker." Harry hoped they weren't there to try out for Beater. He couldn't see any way they could counter the momentum a rampaging Bludger would pick up.

Shaking his head, he mounted his Firebolt. He felt someone watching him and, scanning the crowd, he caught the eye of the American, Josh Cochran who seemed to be looking at the Firebolt hungrily. Harry shook his head, used to the broom being admired by most Quidditch fans.

"Right," Ron bellowed. "Here's the plan. Pairs of Beaters will try and knock Katie and one other Chaser out of the sky. Harry will be flying interference. Double points if you hit him."

Harry threw Ron a withering glance, which Ron shrugged off.

"Chasers, it's nice and easy for you. You get to team up with one of the best Chasers Hogwarts has ever seen. If you're anywhere near as good as her, you might fly well enough to get past the Beaters and Harry, who will also be flying interference against you as well as for you. That's how good _he_ is. After that, all you have to do is try and score past me which, I assure you isn't as easy as you might think."

Harry grinned as his friend formed the potential Chasers and Beaters into lines. Ron had really taken to captaincy with a flourish this year. Harry half-wondered if there was any point in his staying on as co-captain.

Katie flew over to Lee and handed him the list of candidates. Under Hooch's watchful eye they didn't kiss, but Harry was certain he saw Lee squeeze Katie's hand. Harry grinned slightly, hoping that Lee didn't count as enough of a staff member for them to have problems with their relationship.

Madam Hooch called the first contenders forward. A fourth year named Vickie Boyd kicked off on what looked to Harry to be a Cleansweep Ten. He knew that Katie flew on the same broom, and hoped that it was a good omen. The first Beaters to step forward were second year Susanne Angel and Josh Cochran, who Harry realised was carrying a Nimbus 2001. Susanne got up to flight level quickly, and looked competent on her -Harry squinted- Cleansweep Ten. Briefly he wondered if Quality Quidditch Supplies had had a clearout on that particular model over the summer.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Lee threw the Quaffle into the air. Katie caught it and Vickie paced her up the Quidditch pitch and back again, passing the Quaffle as they went. As they approached the centre circle on their way back, Lee unleashed the Bludgers, which had been enchanted for the practise to return to the Beaters. The heavy balls flew up in the air, and settled perfectly in front of Josh and Susanne while Harry waited for Vickie and Katie to pass by beneath him. When they did so, Harry blew on a whistle, and the tryouts began in earnest.

Susanne hammered her Bludger right at Katie, who deftly avoided it, catching a pass from Vickie at the last second. The two Chasers split up, looping outwards to make sure one Bludger couldn't take out both of them. Harry was impressed at Vickie's familiarity with the complex move, which had taken Katie several practises to get right with Alicia and Angelina.

Josh Cochran, meanwhile, sat waiting behind his Bludger. His bat was held loosely in one hand, ready to strike the heavy ball. Harry could tell that the American was gauging his opposition, ready to take his best chance as the moment arose.

It arose as Harry pitched forwards, ready to run interference on the Chasers behalf. Josh swung, sending the Bludger forward on a path that not only made Harry pull up but that knocked the Quaffle from Katie's hands. Harry was impressed.

Moments later he was impressed again as Vickie sped forward and snatched the Quaffle out of mid-air. She ducked under Susanne's second Bludger shot of the day and feinted left to shoot right as she came in range of Ron's goal.

Ron, however, wasn't fooled. He threw himself the right way, catching the Quaffle easily before pitching it back into play. Katie took it and she and Vickie made their way back out to try again. The three team members had agreed on a two minute limit for each tryout, which they felt would weed out the worst cases early on.

With only a few seconds left on the clock, Katie and Vickie swung back into the attack. Katie used a daring tactic when she blocked Susanne's Bludger with the Quaffle. She barely stayed seated on her broom, and all her forward momentum was cut off by the impact, but she had enough control to pitch the Quaffle forward to Vickie, who took it and sped onwards. Josh Cochran eyed her carefully, his bat now held in both hands. With a hard swipe, he sent the Bludger forward. Harry watched carefully. It seemed to be going slightly too low to be of any danger to the fourth year Chaser, and then it clipped Vickie's foot, throwing her badly off balance. The Quaffle flew from her hands and cannoned into Ron's left-hand goalpost, making the wood shudder violently.

"Time!"

Vickie, Susanne and Josh sunk to the ground on their brooms. Unsurprisingly, Vickie was favouring the leg she'd been hit on. She limped towards Lee, who quickly removed her padding and, under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch, strapped up the bruised limb. Harry was glad to see it wasn't broken.

The next group up featured Seamus as one of the Beaters. Harry nodded to his friend, and watched as Colin Creevey -without his camera for once- took his place alongside Katie. Although he fumbled the first pass Katie made to him, he otherwise performed well on the out-and-back run that Katie had settled on as a way of calming candidates nerves.

As soon as they crossed the centre line, however, and the whistle blew, Colin's nerves seemed to go. He nearly dropped the Quaffle in surprise, and when Seamus sent the Bludger his way, he slipped on his broom, only hanging on by one hooked leg. Harry dived down to help Katie bring him back on board.

The rest of the tryouts were an interesting mix of good, bad and very bad. The most embarrassing moment came when a third year Beater candidate somehow managed to hit the Bludger behind himself, catching Harry hard on the shoulder. Harry had to land to be checked out and Madam Hooch grounded him for the rest of the day, stressing that a Seeker needed his shoulders in full working order to fly properly. Harry scowled, but gave his Firebolt to Ron for him to take over as Seeker. Reserve Keeper James Staunton took over from Ron. Harry knew that there wasn't much to choose between the two Keepers, but he missed being up on his Firebolt. A feeling of discomfort that had nothing to do with his shoulder washed over him as he watched Ron revel in the Firebolt's perfectly balanced turning.

"Hi Harry," came a voice from behind him. Harry turned -wincing slightly as he twisted his shoulder- and smiled at Cho Chang as she took a seat beside him.

"Hi," he replied. "Should you be here? I mean, you're the enemy," he added with a grin.

"Not according to the Sorting Hat," she said. "Besides, it's your tryout, not a practise."

"Well, okay. You can stay. You have my permission."

"Very kind," she said, bowing gracefully. "Shouldn't you be flying, though?"

"Took a Bludger to the shoulder," Harry admitted.

"Ouch. I guess you won't be picking that Beater for your team."

"I dunno. I think Ron's quite keen. Probably thinks it'll keep me in line around Ginny now that Fred and George have graduated."

"And will it?"

"No. But knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are only an owl away certainly will," Harry grinned. He hadn't really spoken to Cho the previous year, hadn't even really spoken to her at all, in fact. In truth, he'd been rather scared about having a private conversation with her, in case she wanted to talk about Cedric. He supposed it was only fair if she did. Harry had, after all, been the only person present when Cedric Diggory, Cho's boyfriend, had been murdered. Looking at Cho now, Harry felt rather cowardly for not talking to her before now.

Harry looked up at the tryouts. Dean Thomas was playing as one of the Beaters, and Harry willed his friend to a good performance. As he watched, however, Dean swung wildly at a returning Bludger before it was in range and missed. He nearly slipped from his broom. Harry winced in sympathy.

"That wasn't very good," Cho said beside him. Harry shook his head.

"Dean's better than that. I guess it must be nerv- There you go!"

This time Dean's aim was true. The Bludger flew directly at the Chaser candidate, who Harry realised belatedly was Ginny. He coloured slightly as he realised he'd been too caught up in thinking of Cho to notice Ginny being called forward.

__

At least they were innocent thoughts.

"She's very good," Cho said. "Do you think she'll make it?"

"Not for me to say," Harry replied, his eyes now fixed on Ginny as she flew. He was glad he'd spent the night working on her broom. Once or twice she just barely escaped being hit a Bludger. In the end she finally broke through Dean's frantic defence and slotted the Quaffle neatly through the centre goal hoop, after faking a pass to Katie. 

Harry applauded warmly as Ginny pulled up by him on her Arrowhead.

"You were wonderful!" he said. She beamed at him.

"Did you see that bit where I deflected the Bludger with the Quaffle?" she asked excitedly. "As soon as I saw Katie do it, I knew I had to try it."

"Ah, sorry, I missed that." Harry looked over his shoulder to where Cho was talking to Lee and Madam Hooch. Ginny followed his gaze.

"Oh," she said neutrally. "You were talking to Cho?"

"Yeah. I think I'm going to have to have that talk with her soon," he said soberly.

Ginny grimaced in sympathy. She knew that Harry was dreading 'that talk'.

"I saw most of your tryout, though," he added, a lot happier. "You looked great. All that practise paid off, I guess."

She grinned.

"What did you think of the Beaters?" she asked. Madam Hooch blew on her whistle again, and the tryouts were over. As far as Harry was concerned, there were three candidates for the Beater posts. Seamus, Dean, and Josh had outperformed their competitors by some distance, mainly because the three boys were much larger than their fellow candidates and had a lot more strength at their disposal. 

"I'll have to check with Ron, but I think it's going to be all boys again," he said. Ginny rolled her eyes, but didn't look surprised. She kicked off and headed over to Katie, who was running over the Chasers performances with the help of Madam Hooch and, unsurprisingly, Lee.

Harry set off for the goals where Ron was still hanging around with the Beater candidates. Dean and Seamus were playing Bludger Tennis, a very dangerous game Fred and George had come up with, while the other candidates cheered them on. Harry and Ron slipped around to the other side of the goalposts, where they kept a wary eye on the Bludger, just in case.

"Two from three?" Ron asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, Dean, Seamus and Josh Cochran. What do you reckon?"

"Well, Seamus proved he can play last year. I think he's got to be in. I dunno about the other two."

"I saw Dean swing a bit early on one of his shots," Harry commented, feeling a bit treacherous for passing judgement on such a small incident.

"True. Not much to go on, though. I dunno, what d'you reckon we ask Katie?"

"Yeah, good idea."

With the responsibility of making the decision safely postponed for the next few minutes, they made their way over to where Katie was standing alongside Lee and Madam Hooch. The three of them looked up at Harry and Ron's approach, and Katie beckoned them closer.

"You'll be pleased to know that Ginny was the best one out there," Lee said. "It's down to one from two others."

"Same here," Ron said. "We're agreed on one, we wanted your opinion on the other spot."

"Who've you picked?" Katie asked.

"Seamus Finnegan. He played against Hufflepuff last year, remember?"

"Sure. He's very good, and he was the best one out there today. Who's the other two you're considering?"

"Dean Thomas and Josh Cochran," Harry said. "Any suggestions?"

"Very close. Not much to choose, to be honest. Any chance of Dean and Seamus having the same kind of understanding Fred and George did?"

"Well, they're good friends, but I don't know," Harry said.

"Oliver always used to say that he preferred to pick people who weren't best friends before they came on the team," Katie said. "That way when they got to be friends, Quidditch was the thing that was most important. Friends who happened to be on the team together could fall out."

"Sounds like Oliver," Harry grinned. "You're saying we should pick Josh, then?"

"I'm not saying anything," Katie said. "Beaters are your responsibility. You're not offering to pick the last Chaser, I notice."

"We don't even know who you've got it down to," Ron protested.

"Fine. It's between Vickie Boyd and Dennis Creevey. Opinions?"

"Well, Vickie seemed to be reading your mind out there," Harry said.

"Yeah, but Creevey was really quick," Ron said thoughtfully.

"Either way, you can have them both next year when I'm gone," Katie said.

"Well, in that case, I'd say go with Vickie," Harry said. "Dennis is quick, but he might be a bit lightweight, especially if Crabbe and Goyle are playing for Slytherin again. I know Vickie comes to some of the Duelling Clubs. Dennis can have a year to fill out a bit."

"In that case, go with Cochran," Katie grinned. "Agreed?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. We can fill out the reserves with the rest."

"May I register your choices now?" Madam Hooch asked, brandishing a sheet with the house teams names spread across the top. Harry and Ron nodded, and she filled in the Gryffindor column.

Gryffindor

Keeper: R. Weasley - Yr. 6

(Reserve: J. Staunton - Yr. 4)

Beater: S. Finnegan - Yr. 6

Beater: J. Cochran - Yr. 5

(Reserve: D. Thomas - Yr. 6)

Chaser: K. Bell - Yr. 7

Chaser: V. Boyd - Yr. 4

Chaser: G. Weasley - Yr. 5

(Reserve: D. Creevey - Yr. 3)

Seeker: H. Potter - Yr. 6

(Reserve: None)

"No reserve Seeker?" she asked. Katie and Ron shook their heads.

"Who'd want to have to deputise for Harry?" Lee asked. "Fred had to, years ago. He still hasn't really got over it."

"There must be someone," Harry said. He looked over the crowds of hopeful candidates.

"Nah," Ron said. "It's like Lee says. You're a bit too good, Harry. There's no chance of you getting dropped. Even when you get injured you still catch the Snitch, so why bother with a reserve?"

"Well, okay," Harry said. "I'll try not to get attacked by Death Eaters this year."

"Good man," Ron said. "Might want to make sure you don't upset Ginny again, either."

"Yeah, well, I decided _that_ last night," Harry said. The three team members mounted their brooms and flew over to the crowd, ready to deliver the results of their tryouts.

__

To be continued.

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Aggiebell: I keep saying it, but Dean's role is very important to the story. Keep an eye on him :-) 

It's exceptionally hard for a guy to be friends with someone he's been more than friends with, especially at that age, and especially when you feel the way about her Dean did. He wears his heart on his sleeve, poor kid.

****

Frantic: Sorry for the delay in uploading, but there'll probably be three new chapters up in the next two weeks or so, depending on circumstances. And yes, 40 reviews is pretty cool. My aim for this story is to break 150, so spread the word :-)

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Eric2: Thanks again, and definitely keep an eye out for Ron's sword. It will be back, sometime in the future.

I'm away this coming weekend, so I'll try and update before hand, when I come back and then a third chapter next weekend. That should keep everyone happy. Oh, and spread the word. I want more reviews!


	13. Chapter Twelve: Myths and Legends

**__**

Chapter Twelve: Myths and Legends

"Miss Granger, hello! Wonderful to see you again!"

Hermione looked up from her book on toadstools and into the cornflower-blue eyes of Gilderoy Lockhart. She felt her heart jump a little in her chest as she looked at the teacher she'd once had a crush on. Looking back four years at her memories, she knew full well why she had been taken with the handsome wizard.

__

He's still rather charming, she thought, then smiled politely. "Hello Professor Lockhart. It's good to see you again."

"It's just Mr. Lockhart now, Miss Granger. Anyway, it's good to be here to be seen, if you know what I mean," he twinkled. "Not that I would ever say anything but good things about St. Mungo's. They did, after all, restore my memory. Nonetheless, it's not the most pleasant of places. Much nicer to be back at Hogwarts."

"I like it here too," Hermione said, looking back down at her book.

"Working hard as always?" Lockhart asked. She looked up again and smiled weakly.

"Yes. Herbology," she said. "Not my favourite subject."

"Really? I was always rather good at it. I suppose being in Hufflepuff it's not surprising. Plants and Memory Charms. Not much of a wizard, am I?"

"You were in Hufflepuff?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes," Lockhart replied. "How did the Sorting Hat put it? 'No real way to say, but Hufflepuff will guide you straight and true.' Well, Professor Sprout and the others did their best, of course."

"What happened after you left school?" Hermione asked, interested despite herself.

Lockhart picked at the cuff of his robes. "I took a job with Gringotts as an archivist. It rather honed my writing instincts and, of course, my research abilities. I was rather silly and gave it all up to write the biography of a curse breaker. Along the way I changed the names a little."

"A little?" Hermione asked. Lockhart nodded.

"Gaspart Gadding was his name."

"_Gadding with Ghouls_?" Hermione guessed.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. He really was a most unfortunate man. A wonderful wizard, but by the time it came for him to dictate his memoirs he looked rather like a scabby knee. All over. My publisher talked me into becoming the public face of the book, and one night, with a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhisky in me I Floo'd to his office and wiped the bit of his memory that said I wasn't just the public face of the book. It was all rather too tempting for a poor Hufflepuff."

"And now?"

"And now I'm working for the Ministry. Having broken a thousand laws they gave me the choice of Azkaban or public service. Well, even without the Dementors acting as guard, Azkaban prison is no place for the faint hearted, so here I am."

"Putting your research skills to good use."

"Exactly," Lockhart beamed. "Perhaps I can start to repay my debt by finding out what the Ministry wants me to find out."

"The Temple of Le Fay?" Hermione whispered. Lockhart jumped several inches in the air before recovering.

"Of course. I quite forgot that you're friends with Harry Potter. Well, may I ask you a favour, Miss Granger?"

"I suppose there's no harm in your asking, Mr. Lockhart," Hermione said cautiously.

"I would like to have the chance to apologise to Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Weasley. In private, of course. I don't want to make a big song and dance of it, but I do rather feel dreadful for what I put them through and would like the chance to apologise properly."

"I'll mention it to them. I can't say what their response will be," she said.

__

Actually, I can tell you exactly what Ron's response will be. It will start with 'No', end in 'way' and have several swear words in between.

Lockhart beamed at her, and for the briefest of seconds she felt as though she were twelve years old again. He stood up, and turned to go back to the stacks of books through which students and Ministry researchers were poring.

"Well, back to work," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I'm glad to see that I don't always get treated the way I deserve."

*

Hermione made her way back up to Gryffindor Tower with an armload of books. She was settled in to a comfy armchair and halfway through _Merlin: The Authorised Biography_ when the portrait hole opened and the Quidditch team came tumbling though. They were in high spirits, the Chasers chattering about a new formation they would be trying out in the first game, Seamus and Josh arguing about whether Seamus' Nimbus 2000 or Josh's Nimbus 2001 was the better Beater broom, while Ron and Harry were bickering about tactics. Ron broke off the discussion to say hello to Hermione, who smiled.

__

Love is when your boyfriend gives up a Quidditch discussion to say hello.

Marking her place in her book, she made her way over to the team, who were downing glass after glass of water from the jug on one of the tables. Every time a cupful was poured, it filled itself up magically. Hermione's current S.P.E.W. project was to find a way around the need for the jugs, which she knew were scattered around the school. 

__

Keeping the water fresh and chilled must be an awful drain on the poor things.

Exasperatingly, whenever she asked Dobby about it, he just smiled and said; "It is not being a problem, Miss. We is glad to be serving our Masters and Mistresses."

She pushed S.P.E.W. to the back of her mind as she joined in the chatter between the team members for a few minutes, before giving in to temptation and returning to her book. She passed Dean on the way back to her chair. He seemed a bit quiet, and was throwing rather envious looks at the full Quidditch team. Even as she realised it, however, she heard Ron calling out to him. He got to his feet, and walked over to the team.

"Dean, listen, we've been talking about you and the other reserves," Ron said.

"Oh yeah?" Dean replied.

"Yep. We were thinking it might be a good thing if you could make a few practises here and there, get used to the way the team plays. I mean, when you finally give into temptation and push Seamus here down the stairs-"

"Cheers, Ron," Seamus said, grinning.

"-well, it's you who'll have to come in and play. So, d'you reckon you could come and make a practise, say, once a week?"

"Well, yeah, that'd be great," Dean said, delight spreading across his face like ripples on a pond. "That'd be really good."

"Great. Just let us know if you want to come on Saturday mornings, okay? Otherwise we'll just haul you out of bed at six a.m. for the fun of it."

Dean nodded enthusiastically. Hermione looked fondly at Ron, and turned back to her book, a small smile on her lips even as she began reading about how Merlin ended up being trapped in a cave for hundreds of years.

*

What had started as a trickle quickly grew to a flood. Almost every student in the school now attended the Duelling Club, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were so well trusted by the staff that the Club was only rarely supervised by more than one teacher at a time. More often than not the teacher would be talked into assisting a demonstration which kept them occupied for most of the time. 

Draco Malfoy had become a passionate advocate, buttonholing people to convince them to attend if they weren't already doing so, and reminding people when the next meeting would be. At the second session, he even had a civil conversation with Neville that the left the Gryffindor thoroughly thrown off balance. Enough so that Daniella Spinnet was able to sneak a Tarantallegra jinx past Neville's guard and leave him tap dancing for the next five minutes.

Harry had his hands full tutoring people in Defence Against the Dark Arts. While the Duelling Club had originally involved people learning one or two hexes at a time and practising them on one another, Harry and Hermione had decided it might be an idea to offer an alternative. Now Harry, Ron and Hermione each focussed on their personal strengths, building on each session as they went. Harry most often found himself being asked to help with the Patronus Charm. Even though the Dementors had seemingly abandoned Voldemort's forces following the second battle of Hogsmeade, people were still anxious about the possibility of the former Azkaban guards returning. Few of the students seemed able to master the complex spell, however, and only Harry, Hermione, Ron and one or two others were able to produce a fully corporeal Patronus.

"Maybe I should write to Dad," Ron suggested. "He's got people practising their Patronus day and night. He might have some tips."

Harry watched as Cho Chang and Justin Finch-Fletchley managed nothing more than a faint silver wisp.

"Yeah, can't hurt," he said. He felt slightly put out by his inability to teach the spell more effectively. He looked around for Ginny, who had held back Dementors with her Patronus the previous year, and wondered why he had been able to teach her but not the others.

__

Maybe I'm trying to do too much? With Ginny I had weeks of private lessons. With the Duelling Club I get a couple of hours a week. Besides, not everyone wants to learn the Patronus every week.

Plenty of people were working under Hermione in an attempt to master combat Charms and useful Transfiguration spells that could be applied during a fight. Harry paused to watch Hermione transfigure a small table into a dog. He remembered that Cedric had used the same spell to tackle the dragon that he'd faced in the first task of the Triwizard tournament two years before. Even now, Harry thought, it was hard to believe that Cedric had been gone for over a year.

The dog, a big black Labrador, rather spoiled Hermione's demonstration by rolling onto its back in front of Neville. Neville tickled the dog's stomach, laughing as he did so. Harry could see from across the Great Hall that Hermione's mouth was set in a very Professor McGonagall-like way as she waited for the laughter to die down. Looking back at the dog, Harry realised that it looked like Sirius did when he transformed into a dog. Harry decided to write to Sirius and Remus later that night and bring them up to date on everything that had happened since they had last seen each other.

Across the Hall was Professor Skeeter's fencing class, which had attracted a great deal of attention from the start. Skeeter, together with Dean, was putting the students through an accelerated study program that already had them conducting proper duels, albeit with their weapons blunted. Harry had volunteered for one fight against Ron, but the sight of his best friend wielding the Gladius Excalibur had been enough to make him change his mind. Dean had stepped forward and disarmed Ron in under a minute, much to Ron's annoyance. Following their embarrassing display, the two of them had decided to skip the fencing class for the time being.

Ron had decided to work on strategy. To that end, he had set up several chessboards and was taking on all challengers. At one point, Harry noted, there were six people facing Ron at the same time. Several of the games were very tight, as Ron had to dash from one board to the next. One or two matches were complete walkovers, however, and the grumbling losers joined the small crowd around the display to try and see where they had gone wrong.

Harry felt content enough with the way things were going, but it was a struggle to keep momentum going when there was often a lack of focus to the group. He rarely seemed to teach the same group from one week to the next, which meant he spent a lot of time repeating the basics to people who had missed one class for whatever reason. As he watched Cho glaring at her wand, he wondered if there was any way around the piecemeal nature of his instruction.

__

I'll ask Professor Skeeter. She seems to have it worked out. It's good to have a teacher around full time.

He glanced over at Professor Flitwick, who was one of the people trying to beat Ron at chess. As Harry watched, Ron toppled Flitwick's king with his knight, and the Professor applauded sportingly. Turning back to the crowd in front of him, Harry sighed inwardly as Terry Boot tried for a Patronus but only succeeded in making his wand backfire and coating himself in soot.

__

I must be able to teach them better that this.

*

Conversely, Ron was enjoying being able to talk about strategy.

"You can't just go into a fight and throw your best spell straight off," he said. "You have to use your brains, not just your wand. Wear your opponent down. If you can keep him moving, that's great. Don't forget that a lot of Death Eaters are your Mum and Dad's age, so a few minutes hard exercise and they won't be able to breathe properly. Then you can go in for the big spells. Tarantallegra is always a good spell to use, and if you hit someone with Rictusempra, then they'll be laughing so much they'll not be able to talk easily. And if they can't talk, they can't hex you. The simple spells," he said as he checkmated James Staunton with two pawns, "are worth knowing."

"What if you're facing more than one person, though?" Staunton asked.

"Run," Ron said. "Bravery in that sort of situation will get you killed. Besides, here's a lesson I learnt from Fred and George."

He tapped the next board with his wand, which made the pieces move around freely until Ron's white pieces surrounded Seamus' king.

"If the enemy has chosen the battleground, you'll probably lose. When I was about six I made a vow to myself never to go into Fred and George's room on my own. You wouldn't believe the sort of stuff they had in there for intruders."

"What about in Hogsmeade?" James asked. "You-Know-Who picked the battlefield both times, and we still won."

Ron looked at the chess board for a long moment before answering.

"The first time they attacked, my girlfriend ended up in hospital for several weeks. The second time they attacked people died. I wouldn't say we won either fight. We were lucky that things didn't go worse for us."

James looked chastened by Ron's response.

"Okay, but how do we choose where we fight? We have to react to You-Know-Who's attacks, right?"

"Yeah, for now," Ron said. "Maybe some time in the future we'll take the fight to them but for now we're not doing that. Don't get me wrong, we're all just students here. We're not the front line. Merlin help us if we're ever called upon to fight again."

"So why are you running the Duelling Club if you don't think we'll have to fight?" James asked.

"You don't have to be here," a fifth year Ravenclaw snapped.

"No, it's okay," Ron said. "Look, I hope we never have to fight again. So does Hermione, and, I can assure you, no-one wants it more than Harry. We're helping teach you how to fight because if you should ever need to, you'll have a better idea of how to. We don't expect you to have to fight, we don't have access to You-Know-Who's plans, we don't think he'll show up at the next Hogsmeade weekend.

"But the simple truth of the matter is that people are being attacked. Eloise Midgen was nearly killed a few weeks back, and a lot of Ministry workers have been attacked. My brother and my Dad work for the Ministry, and I'm terrified that they'll be next on the list. If one of you ever gets attacked, and I teach you something tonight, or next week, or in six months time that saves your life, well, that'll make all the times I've handed in my work late, or couldn't spend time with Hermione, or got four hours sleep worthwhile. That's why I'm here, because I hope and pray that you'll never have to use anything you learn here, but there's always the chance that you will.

"Now, any questions before we move onto the next part of tonight's session?"

*

__

Dear Moony and Padfoot, Harry wrote.

__

I hope you're not working too hard. It's pretty tiring here. Every year someone says that it can't get any harder, and every year they're wrong. I'm almost wanting to be back taking my O.W.Ls again, except I'd have to sit through Divination again. Nothing's worth that, 'though I imagine knowing the phases of the moon is pretty handy for you two.

We were at the Exploding Snap club tonight. Things are okay, but as club secretary I do wonder if there's a way of better organising events. I'm not sure that everyone is getting the full benefit. Not everyone can make every session, and it seems a bit silly to go over the rules of the game every time we meet.

Ron's chess lessons are going well, though. He really seemed to get through to a few people when he was explaining about the pawn gambit tonight. Hermione's still working with her study group. They were working on ways to Transfigure furniture into animals today. It was the very first thing Professor McGonagall showed us, which is quite strange. I still don't have the faintest idea how to do it.

Moony, do you have any suggestions as to how people can repeat my staggering achievements? Not everyone seems to grasp the rules of Happy Families, and I think a few people are getting a little crazy about it.

Apart from that, everything here is okay. Ginny made it onto the house Quidditch team. She's going to play as a Chaser. We've got four new players this year, so we're practising like mad. We've got the reserves practising with us a lot as well, so we're really busy.

Something you might be interested to hear: Draco Malfoy transferred from Slytherin into Ravenclaw at the start of the year. He had to be Sorted again and everything. He's the son of your friend Lucius, Padfoot. Did that ever happen while you were here?

Ron says hi,

Harry

Harry sealed the letter and tied it to Hedwig's ankle. The snowy owl hopped on to his wrist, and Harry took it to the dormitory window. He undid the clasp, eased the pane aside, and let Hedwig out. He watched her fly away until she was a tiny speck of white against the dark night sky. When she vanished at last, Harry sighed and turned away, shutting the window. A movement in one of the beds caught his eye.

"Still up, Harry?"

"Just had a letter to send, Dean,"

"Oh, alright then. What'd you make of the Club tonight?"

"Ah, it was okay. Don't think I'm making much progress teaching the Patronus charm though."

"No? Weird. Everyone in my group learned loads tonight. Anyway, best get some sleep. Divination first thing tomorrow."

"Still saying you're going to stab a friend in the back?"

"Yeah. She's dead set on it. Won't tell me who, though. The old fraud reckons I should be trying to work out who I might be a threat too."

"Well, I'll make sure to keep you in front of me," Harry smiled tiredly.

"Yeah. Probably going to be Seamus. Maybe I'll steal Lavender from him?"

"Yeah, could be. Or you'll set him up so Trelawney starts picking on him."

"Sounds even better," Dean grinned. "Well, night Harry."

"Night, Dean."

*

Harry, Ron and Hermione all had Tuesday morning off. They watched with mixed feelings of sympathy and amusement as the other sixth years trekked off to Divination after breakfast. They made their way back to Gryffindor Tower where, as an early autumn storm lashed the windows, they settled into the comfortable armchairs by the fire and worked on homework and Arthurian legend.

For a change, Harry was the only one with homework to do. He'd skipped working on Potions on Saturday afternoon to spend time with Ginny while Ron and Hermione did their homework. He frowned as his mind kept slipping back to the memory of their walk by the lake instead of staying focussed on the five foot long essay that Snape expected to be ready for the next day.

"The Fourteen Uses Of Clark Beetle Blood Can Be Simplified Into Four Groups Or Further Divided Into Thirty Seven Sub-Categories. Using Examples Of Fully Detailed Potions, Show Why Meddling With The Classic Classification Of Fourteen Uses Is At Best Foolish And At Worst Wilfully Tempts Danger."

Harry groaned. The title alone was enough to make his head spin, even if it did take up three valuable inches of parchment. Moodily, he struggled onwards, deliberately leaving his measuring tape out of hand's reach.

Hermione, meanwhile, had begun her third text of the week. It was a rare volume that looked at Arthurian legend from Morgan Le Fay's point of view, and she had some hope that it might contain some previously unknown information on the famous sorceress. Ron was struggling with _The Once and Future King._

"I know that Muggles used to accept wizards," he said as he read of the young Arthur's first encounter with Merlin. "But the way Merlin just shows up with Arthur at his guardian's castle and starts showing off. Even back then there must have been laws against that."

"I should imagine it's rather dramatised, Ron," Hermione said.

"What, you mean made up?"

"Well, yes. Partly. Most of it seems to agree with what I've read elsewhere, but I've no doubt that parts of it have been made more fantastic then they actually were."

"Great. I've been wasting my time with a storybook," Ron grumbled. "Aren't there any books that tell the truth?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out!" Hermione said. "Me and about thirty witches and wizards down in the library. Honestly, Ron-"

"Okay, okay, I'll read it," Ron interrupted. "Why didn't anyone think to ask Merlin what really happened to Le Fay, that's what I want to know."

"Probably they did. That's one of the things we want to find."

"'We'?" Ron asked. "Did they ask you to help them, Hermione? I mean, you've got as much work as I do. I know you're good, but even you shouldn't be taking on that much extra work."

"No, I wasn't asked, I'm doing it for Harry's sake," Hermione replied. "That reminds me, though, Lockhart said he wanted to meet you two and Ginny so that he can apologise for what happened when he was here last time."

"Right," Ron said. "I think I've got room on my timetable. D'you reckon a week-next-never will be soon enough for him?"

"Ron. . ." Hermione began. Harry looked over his shoulder.

"How about we let Ginny decide?" he said. "It's her who was really in danger from what he did, after all."

"Yeah, okay, fine," Ron said. "Whatever Ginny decides, I'll go with."

They went back to their work in silence.

*

Tuesdays were what Ron referred to as 'easy day'. A single period of Charms after morning break was followed by a single period of Transfiguration after lunch. Once they were through with that they were, as Professor McGonagall often put it, "Free to work on whatever subject you wish. However, if you don't hand your essay in to me by lunchtime on Friday then you shall be the live subject for our next practical lesson."

For Hermione, of course, no day was an easy day. When she wasn't in class, she was either in the library or studying in the common room. Even Ron was struggling to get her to look up from her books as the term progressed. Harry felt increasingly guilty as he realised that a lot of the work she was doing was related to the Temple of Le Fay.

"Harry, don't be silly," she said when he tried to talk her into slowing down. "I love the Arthurian stories. Doing this isn't work, it's fun."

But Harry wasn't convinced. Too often Hermione was the last person to leave the common room at night and the first person there in the morning. He tried speaking to Ron about it, but Ron wasn't concerned.

"Look, she's mad. We've known that for years. There's not a thing we can say that'll make her slow down. She knows not to do more than she cope with, and she can cope with a lot."

Harry was a little happier with this. By the time the weekend rolled around, he had convinced himself that Hermione was just being Hermione, and that working so intensively wasn't as much of a burden for her as it was for anyone else.

It was with a clear conscience, then, that he took Ginny out for a late evening stroll down to the Quidditch pitch on Friday evening.

"Just a week to go now," Ginny said. "Us against Slytherin on Saturday. I can't wait."

"And then?" Harry asked.

"Ravenclaw play Hufflepuff after that. We play Hufflepuff in December, Ravenclaw play Slytherin in January. Slytherin-Hufflepuff in March and mid April it's us against Ravenclaw."

"Well, I'm impressed. I didn't know who we were playing after Slytherin," Harry said.

"Yeah, like I believe that," Ginny said, squeezing his hand. "Think we'll do well?"

"No idea," Harry said truthfully. "A new team, lots of new players on the other sides. We'll have a better idea after the first two matches."

"I know we'll win," Ginny said confidently. "We've been flying well in practise, and it was a great idea to have the reserves play with us."

"Yeah, Ron thought it'd work. I'm surprised Oliver never thought of it," Harry said.

"Who do you think'll be our biggest challengers?"

"Ravenclaw," Harry said. "I don't want to sound like Lockhart or anything but if it comes down to it I reckon Cho's the only one who can give me any real trouble in a fight for the Snitch, and that's usually what matters. Unless Crabbe and Goyle are playing as Beaters for Reavenclaw."

Ginny giggled. Harry had never tired of hearing the sound, and he loved being the cause of it. She smiled up at him.

"Have you spoken to Cho yet?" she asked quietly.

Harry's good humour dimmed quickly.

"No," he admitted. "I haven't really seen her, to be honest. Whenever she comes to the Duelling Club, she's surrounded by her friends. It doesn't seem right to talk about, well. . ."

"Cedric," Ginny finished for him. "When she's ready, she'll come to you."

"I hope so. I'd hate to think she was holding off from talking to me about it."

They clambered up the stands in silence, puffing slightly as they got to the top. Harry slipped his arms around Ginny and smiled down at her, enjoying the way her pale skin glowed in the moonlight.

"What were we talking about?"

"Don't remember."

"Oh, okay."

*

The next day was a Saturday and Ron and Harry dashed through Quidditch practise with almost indecent haste. Professor Snape had set them an almost indescribably evil essay that would involve them spending most of their weekend in the library. They left Katie to give a post-session talk to the rest of the team, had a quick shower, and made their way to the library.

Just as they were about to go in, the doors flew open and Hermione stormed out, banging the door behind her. She didn't acknowledge their presence, but stalked off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, her cheeks glowing red. Harry and Ron looked after her, and Harry was about to follow her when Ron laid a hand on his arm. He jerked a thumb at the library doors.

"Let's see what's got her mad first, yeah?"

They opened the library door to the sound of Madam Pince screaming at the top of her lungs at someone. Looking around the edge of the door they saw Gilderoy Lockhart floundering in front of the raging librarian.

"Yes. . . But. . . I mean. . . Really. . ." he was stammering as Pince tore into him.

Harry and Ron shut the door carefully.

"What was _that_ about?" Ron asked.

*

They found Hermione by the fire in the common room. She had a furious scowl on her face, and was glaring at one of the set texts for Charms in a way that reminded Harry of Tom Riddle's basilisk. They sat down either side of her. Ginny came in with the rest of the Quidditch team and came over to join them.

"I thought you were going to study?" she said. She looked closer at Hermione. "What's wrong?"

"That's what we were about to ask," Ron said. "Hermione?"

"Nothing's wrong," she said, her voice unusually high. Ron looked up at Harry and Ginny, one eyebrow raised. They took the hint and went over to talk to the rest of the team.

""Okay, if something _were_ wrong, what would be wrong?" Ron asked.

Hermione slammed the heavy book shut with a loud bang, and dropped it beside her on the sofa.

"Stuck up, toffee nosed, arrogant, self-centred. . ." she muttered, glaring at the fire.

"_Who_ is, Hermione?" Ron pressed.

"Those wizards in the library," she spat. "Idiotic, rude and they wouldn't know a good idea if it was staring at them out of one of their precious books."

Ron struggled to hold back a grin. For more than five years he'd teased Hermione about her books, and to hear her say something similar about someone else would, under other circumstances, have had him rolling on the floor laughing. For Hermione's sake, he controlled himself.

"What'd they say?"

"One of them saw me taking back some of the books on Merlin we've been reading. He was really rude, said that I'd slowed them down, that they'd been looking for the books I'd had."

"Well, they're idiots not to have booked them out beforehand," Ron said.

"Well, yes, I didn't put it quite that way but that was basically what I said to him," Hermione said, her scowl diminishing slightly.

"What happened next?"

"Two or three of his friends came over and were very rude to me. I said that I wanted to help and that I was a friend of Harry's, and they laughed. They said that it had nothing to do with me, that I should worry about my own work, that they weren't about to do my Transfiguration work for me -as if I'd need _their_ help-"

Ron grinned, but didn't say anything.

"-and then one of them turned around and said that when the day came they needed a Mudblood to help them it'd be a very sorry day indeed."

Ron stopped grinning. "He said what?" he asked, calmly.

"You heard," Hermione sighed. "Lockhart heard it too and came over to say something but they just told him to get lost and that he should stop getting in their way."

"Which one of them was it?" Ron asked, standing up and drawing his wand.

"It was the blonde one but. . . Oh Ron, don't be silly," Hermione said, grabbing his arm as he stood. "You can't go and hex a Ministry wizard."

"I would," he said, reluctantly putting his wand away. "If you wanted me to."

"I know you would," she said. "And I appreciate it, really I do." For the first time since leaving the library she smiled slightly.

"Well, if they don't want you helping them, it's their loss," Ron said.

"I hope not," she said. "What if they miss something that would lead to the Temple? What if they stop all access to any books on Merlin or Le Fay?"

"Hermione, you can't do everything, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said.

"Then trust this lot to do their job. They probably just spend so much time with books they don't know how to mix with people."

She sighed, and curled up against him.

"When did you become the level headed one?" she asked.

"When I started thinking like you," he replied. "Now, stop worrying about those Ministry idiots. There's more important things to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Like that Potions essay. Did you know it's six feet long?"

"Yes. I did two feet this morning while you were practising."

"You did? Let me have a look, Hermione. I won't _copy_ it. I just need to know where to start. . ."

"Ron, how will you ever learn anything. . ?"

__

To be continued…

****

Aggiebell: First fight is a pig, for sure. You may be right in that Harry's not got things quite right. Will he learn from this? Hmm…

Bits of this chapter made me laugh while I was writing it, which I always think is a good sign, and you picked out two of them. Fred and George will be back, in person, later on in the fic.

You get to see a game in the next chapter. How's that for service? :-p

****

Frantic: Double chapter upload tonight. Aren't I good to you? As for Harry and Ginny… Well, you'll see how that goes as the fic develops :-D


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Gryffindor vs Slytheri...

**__**

Chapter Thirteen: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

To Hermione's fury and Harry's relief, the Ministry research team blocked all further access to the Arthurian texts. Harry privately thought that the ban was at least partly to spite Hermione, who glowered at the Ministry wizards whenever she was in the library.

Harry didn't have time to worry about the Temple, however. The opening match of the season, against Slytherin, was taking place in less than a week and Harry and Ron were insisting on regular practises to keep the team sharp. They practised every day except Friday, which they decided they would need off to prevent injuries and also to catch up on the backlog of work that had occurred that week. Harry sweated as he tried without much hope to get a head start on the Potions essay Snape had spitefully assigned everyone in the class. Mercifully, it was only a four foot piece, but it was so intricate, and the potions involved so varied, that Harry knew he was in trouble from the start.

"I thought he might go easy," he moaned to Hermione late on Friday night. "His team are playing tomorrow. Shouldn't he have gone lightly on us?"

"He hasn't been favouring Slytherin so much this year, has he?" Hermione mused. "Do you think Malfoy leaving has got him angry?"

"Who cares?" Ron sighed. "He's an evil git, it's as simple as that. When I finish here, the first thing I'm going to do is buy everything Fred and George have in their shop and set it got go off next time Snape opens his door. And I'll do it every week until he gives up and comes crawling to me, begging for forgiveness."

Harry laughed, and even Hermione smiled slightly.

"Hermione, do you know how to do this essay?" Harry asked ten minutes later.

"I think so," she replied slowly.

"Right. So it is possible?"

"Yes."

"Oh well. I was hoping we could just tell McGonagall it was impossible. She'd let us off doing it, right?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, she would. But it's not impossible. Now, will you please be quiet for five minutes while I try and work this out."

"He was quiet for ten minutes," Ron muttered as he paged through a Potions text. "I was counting."

"Well, that's a very useful way of spending your time," Hermione huffed. "Are you two planning on doing _any_ work tonight?"

"Well, not really," Harry admitted. "It's a match tomorrow, Hermione. You know I can't work properly the night before a match."

"You never work properly on any night, Harry," Hermione sighed. "You might as well go to bed, or spend some time with Ginny. Anything to stop you distracting me."

Harry was gone before she finished her sentence. She turned to Ron.

"I suppose you're going to run off as well?"

"Me? No. I can't ever sleep before a match. Might as well get some work done. Besides, I can work and spend time with you at the same time. Seems like a good deal to me."

Hermione looked quickly down at her parchment, which already had over eight inches of her tiny, precise handwriting on it. She blushed slightly, and Ron grinned at the top of her head before turning back to his own work.

Beneath the table, his foot brushed against hers. He let it rest there, the faint contact relaxing both of them as they struggled with the diabolical essay.

*

On the other side of the common room Harry found Dean, Vickie and Ginny playing Exploding Snap. He was dealt in on a new hand and soon forgot the Potions essay until Dean mentioned it nearly an hour later.

"I got about two inches done," Dean confessed. "Couldn't work tonight. Too nervous about tomorrow."

"What have you got to be nervous about?" Ginny asked. "You're not playing tomorrow."

"I will be if Seamus, oh I don't know, falls out of his bed during the night. Harry, what's that spell for making people fly?"

Harry grinned while Vickie and Ginny laughed. A short while later the game broke up when the deck exploded just as Dean was about to lay down his last card. He got away with singed hairs on the back of his hand, but had to plunge his hand into one of the jugs of water, sending water splashing over himself and his three opponents. The four of them laughed at the sight of each other sopping wet, and Ginny was nearly in hysterics when Dean realised the water jug had somehow become wedged on his hand.

Eventually Ron gave up on his essay -he'd managed about a foot and a half while Hermione was on her sixth foot and still going- and ordered the team to bed. Harry and Ginny lingered for one last kiss before heading up to their separate dormitories.

*

"And here come the Slytherin team. Chasers Blaise Zabini, Adrian Pucey and third year debutante Joseph Arthur, Beaters Malcolm Baddock and fourth year Callum Williams, Keeper Graham Pritchard and captain and Seeker Terrence Higgs. I see that the team are all still flying the Nimbus 2010s purchased for the team by Lucius Malfoy, father of Ravenclaw's newest sixth year, _Draco_ Malfoy. Well done whoever got him to sign them over to Slytherin house, excellent work."

Lee Jordan paused in the commentary box. Now that he was a member of the Hogwarts staff, Professor McGonagall no longer felt the need to watch over him while he commentated on the school Quidditch matches. He shook his head, wondering how long he could get away with abusing her trust in him. He'd had a small wager with Fred and George -who had made their way to Hogwarts for the day- that he could make it through the first match. They had said he wouldn't last ten minutes. Harry, on hearing of the bet that morning at breakfast, had taken the middle ground on the bet.

"I see movement in the player's tunnel. It's scarlet and gold, ladies and gentlemen a big hand for Gryffindor!

"And the new look Gryffindor team comes soaring out of the tunnel. Only two players with more than one season behind them this year, a very inexperienced team and not heavily backed among the house betting circles of which I, as a member of staff, know absolutely nothing."

Lee looked around. No response from Professor McGonagall, who was perfectly capable when it came to performing the Sonorus charm and could easily have screamed at him from where she was sitting on the far side of the stadium. Clearly she was granting him a certain amount of latitude.

__

I wonder just how much?

"This year's Gryffindor team: Keeper Ron Weasley, the co-captain of course, along with Seeker Harry Potter. Beaters Josh Cochran and Seamus Finnegan, fifth and sixth year debutantes respectively. And the magnificent Chasers, rarely has so much grace, so much style, so much beauty been combined in one team's offence-"

He paused. Still nothing.

"-Well, anyway, Ginny Weasley, Katie Bell, Vickie Boyd. Yeah. Can we play now?"

Harry laughed as he swept past the commentary box on his Firebolt. Lee looked downright disheartened at not having Professor McGonagall to tease. Then Lee perked up.

"Of course the Nimbus 2010, as flown by the entire Slytherin team, is a wonderful broom. And yet you can't help but think that the Nimbus manufacturers have failed to completely learn their lesson from the Firebolt. The Nimbus is edged out in every category by the older broom, as flown today by our very own Harry Potter. The Firebolt is renowned throughout the world as the best broom available. Pinpoint balance, precision breaking and simply unbeatable acceleration. A superb top speed that means a Firebolt rider can outpace anything else on the Quidditch pitch and most importantly the cushioning charm to protect the riders buttocks and priv-"

"JORDAN!"

"-and good morning to Professor McGonagall who will get to watch the match from the stands for the first time in seven years. Enjoy the match, Professor, although I do miss working with you.

"And here come the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw captains, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Cho Chang, carrying out the match balls. And look at that trunk rock! It looks like the Bludgers are especially eager for today's match. I wouldn't want to be out there today and good luck to all of our players. Here's to a great game."

Madam Hooch released the Snitch, which immediately flew out of sight by the player's tunnel. Next out were the Bludgers, which were indeed extremely frisky. They rocketed straight up, before spiralling outwards. Harry could see Josh and Seamus watching them warily as they spun around the pitch. Harry kept a close eye on them as well. He'd taken too many hits to entirely trust the belief that Bludgers were safe until the whistle was blown to start the match.

Then Madam Hooch blew her whistle as she released the Quaffle, and the match was on.

Listening to instinct, Harry immediately threw himself into a dive and felt rather than saw a Bludger pass just overhead. His hair swished as he sped through the air.

__

I need a trim, he thought irrelevantly as he focussed automatically on the Quaffle. It was with Blaise Zabini, Ron's favourite Slytherin, who lobbed it forward to Joseph Arthur who flicked it cleanly on to Adrian Pucey. Harry scowled. In just two moves that Quaffle had moved from one end of the pitch to the other. 

The Slytherins seemed to have decided on long passes that would move the Quaffle long distances quickly, but ran a higher chance of interception. It was a trade off that neither Oliver nor Harry and Ron had considered worth the risks involved, but with a skilful, fast team it could be very rewarding. Harry grimaced as he watched Pucey play a long pass over Katie's head and into the waiting hands of Zabini. They'd misjudged the Slytherins, it seemed.

Ten minutes later, Harry knew that he was right. The long passes were finding their target time after time, and Gryffindor were finding it impossible to settle into a rhythm. The Slytherin Beaters, Baddock in particular, were incredibly good at disrupting the Gryffindor attacks, while the Chasers were disconcertingly accurate with their long passes. Harry watched in frustration as Ginny nearly flew into Seamus when they misjudged a Slytherin movement. Gryffindor were trailing by forty points already.

Harry looped around the pitch, trying to get some distance from the match and watch it as though he were a neutral. 

__

What are their weaknesses? How do we break them down?

Harry watched for several seconds, in which time Ron was thoroughly torn by the three converging Seekers, Pucey slotting the Quaffle easily into the right hand goal. There was a collective groan from the Gryffindor crowd as the Slytherin players celebrated their fifty point lead. Gryffindor were still scoreless.

Ron swooped dispiritedly down to the ground to pick up the Quaffle, and Harry dropped down too.

"We," Ron said. "Are getting killed."

"Harry nodded. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, take out their Beaters. They must still have Crabbe and Goyle as reserves, right? Other than that, I'm a bit busy just trying to stop them scoring, let alone come up with tactics."

"I think I have an idea," Harry said. "I'm not sure it's going to work, though."

"What's the idea?"

"I stop looking for the Snitch, and just try and interfere."

"That's risky," Ron said. "You'll be the number one target if you drop down to the same level as everyone else. The Beaters have to protect the Chasers, you know that."

"Then I'll have to make sure I don't get in their way," Harry said, sounding rather more confident than he felt. Ron nodded.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," he said as Madam Hooch flew over to them.

"When you're quite ready," she said coolly. Ron and Harry nodded sheepishly.

"Oh, and Ron?" Harry said as they rose back up level with the goalposts.

"Yeah?"

"Chuck the Quaffle at me. Let's see if we can't make a long pass of our own."

Ron grinned.

*

"And it's game on once again as Potter and Ron Weasley return from their brief captain's discussion. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs is high above us -give us a wave, Terence. Fine, be like that- while Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter seems to be playing a different tactic than usual. He's staying low, mixing with the other Gryffindor players. Gryffindor Keeper Weasley plays the Quaffle out to Katie Bell, no, Potter is there and he flicks the Quaffle on with the tail of his Firebolt. I seem to remember him doing that last year, and so I can assure you that it's not actually illegal, just slightly dubious, but who cares when it's a Gryffindor doing it, right?"

"JORDAN!"

"Only joking Professor, only joking. Very naughty of you, Potter, don't do it again. I'll tell you what, though, it's let new Gryffindor Seeker Vickie Boyd in on goal, and the Slytherin Keeper is left completely out of position and Gryffindor get a goal back! Goal Gryffindor! That makes it fifty-ten to Slytherin, and could there be a comeback on the cards?"

It certainly seemed that way. Over the next ten minutes, Harry put the speed of the Firebolt to great use. Every Slytherin attack was blocked off, every pass intercepted as Harry appeared as if from nowhere. Before long, Josh and Seamus got the idea, and when Harry couldn't make it somewhere before the Quaffle did, one of them would appear, often just ducking out of the way before the other Beater sent a Bludger crashing through the space they'd just occupied. This seriously surprised whichever Slytherin Chaser was unfortunate enough to be in the Bludger's path.

It wasn't pretty. The match had degenerated into spoiler tactics that were turning a lot of the neutral supporters -and a few of the Slytherins and Gryffindors- against the teams. Harry decided that it was time to change tactics again.

"Back to plan A," he yelled as Ron easily saved a long range shot from Joseph Arthur.

The Gryffindor team moved into action like a well oiled machine. Josh and Seamus flanked the Chasers as Vickie, Ginny and Katie passed the Quaffle back and forth with consummate ease. Caught off guard, the Slytherins were soon trailing by twenty points.

"That's much more like it. I was frightened for a second that we were actually going to have a dull match on our hands. Go Gryffindor!"

"JORDAN! No favouritism!"

"They're the best team on the pitch, Professor. I'm supporting the beautiful game, not the beautiful team. Sorry, did I say that out loud? Hi Katie! Anyway, back to the game. Gryffindor back in possession and Slytherin are looking dangerous. Baddock is absolutely lethal with that club of his, a great young talent, and, I have to say, one I hope goes far in the sport.

"Potter interrupts the Slytherin attack. He really is trying to do everything today. A human Bludger, much like the dearly departed Weasley twins."

There was a great roar from the crowd at the mention of the much-missed Fred and George, who took the opportunity to stand up, wave and bow.

"Sit down lads. They were cheering the girls, not you. I assure you, not one person is interested in Fred and George Weasley."

Lee grinned as he taunted his long time friends from the very public, very safe commentator's position.

"Back to the match, then, and Gryffindor back in possession. Ginny Weasley cuts inside and shoots. . . No, Pritchard saves it. A _very_ good save. Knocked forward to Pucey, who turns on a Knut and powers forward. The Nimbus 2010 may not be as quick as the Firebolt, but it's still pretty fast, and Pucey easily outstrips Cochran on the comparatively ancient Nimbus 2001. Pucey is making a beeline for the Gryffindor goal, he seems to have forgotten all about Zabini and Arthur, but he's surely remembered Weasley, yes, he dives under Weasley and tries to shoot upwards, very hard to do and. . . No, not quite Pucey, but a valiant effort. The Quaffle bounces off of the goalhoop and back into play with Ginny Weasley.

"And Weasley is out to show Higgs how it's done! She's going for all out attack on the Slytherins, streaking up the field on her Arrowhead which, I'm reliably informed, belonged to our own dearly departed Alicia Spinnet."

George, who was cheering Ginny on from his seat, faltered in mid-bellow, but quickly picked up steam again.

"A player of pedigree on a broom of pedigree, then, and she's really showing us all the skill one would expect of a great Chaser. She rounds Baddock, who seems to have forgotten what that club in his hand is for. That's okay, kid, just don't remember until your next match, alright?

"Weasley streaks onwards. She beats Callum Williams with ease and now she's just left with Graham Pritchard to beat. She jukes, she feints, she shoots, she scores! Gryffindor lead by one hundred points to sixty!"

Harry did a loop-the-loop to celebrate Ginny's first goal for the team. It was something he hadn't done since his first match, more than five years beforehand and he felt slightly embarrassed, but he felt much happier for Ginny. All the training she'd put in had paid off with that one goal. He saw echoes of her long hours in the orchard in the way she'd moved through the Slytherin players, and the way she'd tricked Pritchard before scoring showed off all the time she'd spent taking practise shots against Ron. He wanted to dive down and hug her, but he was wary of getting carried away. The Snitch had only appeared briefly so far, darting across the pitch and under the commentator's position almost before Harry could blink, and he wanted to be ready for it in case it appeared ag-

"The Snitch! There's the Snitch! Get after it, boys!"

The boys got after it. Terence and Harry flew side by side towards the Slytherin goal, arms outstretched as they sought to catch the Snitch. Harry was marginally in front, but Terence was slightly lighter. The two flyers were perfectly even.

Until a Bludger swung up from beneath them and slammed into their outstretched hands, completely throwing their concentration. They spiralled away from each other, searching for the Snitch, which had disappeared in the momentary loss of concentration. Harry glowered at Malcolm Baddock, who had sent the Bludger in front of them. The Slytherin Beater shrugged and laughed.

"Interesting play by the Slytherin Beater," Lee said. "Breaking up a very even fight for the Snitch, I suppose Baddock is gambling on Higgs having a clear run on the Snitch next time out. We'll have to see. For the record, my money is on the unbeatable Harry Potter-"

The rest of Lee's sentence was lost in a great storm of cheers and jeers from the Gryffindor and Slytherin supporters.

Harry swung lazily over the pitch, watching the match unfold still further beneath him. The Slytherin's earlier game plan had been abandoned due, Harry felt, to a loss of confidence in themselves on the part of the players. Gryffindor had shown their ability to intercept the long passes, so Slytherin had returned to a more traditional way of play. The crowd were eating it up, cheering lustily every short pass, every Bludger that tore through the late morning air, every shot on goal. Graham Pritchard and Ron were playing superbly, saving everything that came their way. The Chasers reacted by turning up the level of trickery they displayed. When Blaise Zabini finished off a move that saw the Quaffle change hands eighteen times in eleven seconds, even the Gryffindors rose to their feet and applauded. Even Harry had to stifle a smile at the move, which brought the Slytherin team within thirty points of Gryffindor. Clearly the game would be decided by whoever caught the Snitch. Neither team was going to allow the other to open up a one hundred and fifty point lead.

Harry chuckled slightly as he realised that the entire school was, once more, looking to him. Looking over at Terence Higgs, Harry felt grateful that he would be sharing the burden for once.

And then, between Terence and Harry, it appeared.

"The Snitch, the Snitch, the Snitch!" Lee yelled. Harry was already on his way, Terence as well. The two accelerated forward, and Harry knew within a second that he had the game won.

Terence Higgs had been a second year when Harry started at Hogwarts, and had made it onto the Slytherin team through pure skill. Even Marcus Flint had abandoned the traditional 'bigger-is-better' mentality to bring Higgs into the team. All that had counted for nothing the next year, of course, when Malfoy had show up with his Nimbus 2001 collection. Higgs had been unceremoniously dumped into the Reserves, and then made a triumphant return the previous year as a Chaser for the team after, it was rumoured, training so hard he'd broken two of the Slytherin brooms, which had prompted the bringing in of the 2010s. 

As good a Seeker as he may once have been, however, Harry knew that Higgs had forgotten a key point. The Snitch moves unpredictably.

Hovering as it was now above the centre circle, it must have looked for all of the world like a Quaffle awaiting capture to Higgs. To Harry, it was a bird in flight, hovering momentarily, but ready to flash away at a moments notice.

Higgs hand closed on open air, and he shot past Harry as Harry urged the Firebolt onwards, chasing after the suddenly mobile Snitch. He flashed past Josh Cochran, between Ginny and Katie and ducked under Seamus as the Snitch flew over his friend. It dropped downwards, almost seeming to aim itself at Harry's hand as he brought it up, clenching his fingers tightly and quickly to make sure that-

"He's done it again! Harry Potter catches the Golden Snitch! Can _anyone_ beat the Gryffindors?"

*

A Quidditch victory was always a reason for a party. A Quidditch victory over Slytherin -for the fifth season in a row, Lee pointed out, even with the Twiwizard tournament interrupting things- was even more reason to celebrate. 

Some people were easy to get in the mood.

"Bring on the Butterbeers!" Seamus roared as he was carried through the portrait hole by a crowd of third years.

Some weren't.

"Hermione, if you don't put that book down then I swear I'm going to hex off every hair on your head."

"Ron, you don't even know the _potion_ for baldness, let alone the hex for it. Now leave me alone. I'm very glad we won, but I want to read this."

"It's not even a homework book, Hermione, it's just another flaming book on King Arthur. For heavens sake come and have some fun."

"I am having fun. Fun does not automatically mean noise. Fun can often be quiet, silent even."

"Her-miiiii-one!"

"_No_, Ron. Go and pester Harry and Ginny. They're being quiet too."

"What? They can forget that, for a start."

Hermione smiled quietly to herself as Ron dashed off. Taking a sip of pineapple juice, she turned the page.

*

Harry and Ginny were dragged from a private replay of the match into the middle of the room where Lee Jordan was compering an impromptu discussion on the respective merits of the male Quidditch players. The Gryffindor girls were cheering loudly as each of the players were pulled up on a table and subjected to criticism by Lee and Katie.

"Harry Potter!"

"So much promise," Katie sighed theatrically. "So many dreams shattered and hearts broken. No, just go away Harry. I can't even bear to look at you. Do you realise how many girls cry themselves to sleep at night, knowing you're off the market?"

"Besides, girls, his lady is a mean one with a scalping charm," Lee chipped in as Harry was booed laughingly off of the table. Josh Cochran was called up next.

"My, you're a tall one," Lee said. "And an American too. What's the best thing about being here in Hogwarts, my trans-Atlantic cousin?"

"Here in Britain," the American said with a distinctive Texan twang. "Here in Britain, the girls are so much less self-obsessed."

"Canned answer," Katie objected. "But it was better than 'Gee, yur soooo purty,' I guess."

Lee laughed. "Wasn't that how I got you to go out with me?"

"No, I just liked your hair."

Lee tossed his dreadlocks extravagantly. "As our dear Professor Lockhart once wrote -or claimed to write- 'Take care of your hair, and let enemies beware.' Now, I don't have a clue what that means, but it fills a little time while Katie decides how handsome Josh is."

"I couldn't decide. It's too far up to his face," Katie said. "The clouds get in the way. Off you go, Tex."

Seamus was summoned next, and traded banter effectively with Lee while Katie sized him up.

"Nah, he's taken too. Besides, I never did like blondes," she decided.

"What about a redhead?" Lee asked, dragging Ron up on the table. Ron sniggered as Lee talked about memories of Fred and George, who were very much in evidence in the crowd. The twins catcalled everything Lee said about Ron, good or bad, and when Katie said that he was more manly than both of them put together they faked fainting fits that even had Lee laughing.

"Sadly, he's taken too," Katie said in the end. "Alas, there is no one among the boys who rise to my high standards."

"Which, apparently, are single, not blonde and not too tall," Lee said. "Don't I feel special?" 

"What about the reserves?" Seamus called out. Lee grinned.

"A _very _good question," he said, searching for Dean, Dennis Creevey and James Staunton. James was otherwise occupied, kissing Orla Quirke enthusiastically by the fireplace.

"Well, two out of three ain't bad," Lee sighed. Dean and Dennis mounted the table, Dean looking a little anxious while Dennis seemed to be taking the whole thing in good spirits.

"Now, my sweet, what about these two fine specimens of manhood."

"A definite improvement," Katie drawled. "And were I in the mood for a younger model, then I might consider trading you in for Mr.. Thomas. Alas, his hair is much too short," she sighed, as she ran a finger over Dean's nearly clean shaven scalp. "Sorry Dean, even though I love your fencing classes, and any man that nimble is probably a great dancer, unlike our friend here," -she pointed at Lee- "who is all talk."

She turned to Dennis.

"Finally," she said. "The man of my dreams. The right height, the right hair, no female companion that I know of. Dennis, you're just perfect."

There was a great cheer as Katie kissed Dennis on the cheek. Dennis grinned widely, then jumped up in the air, raising his arms high above his head as he capered on the table. Lee laughed as Dennis jumped off the table and was instantly surrounded by several girls, all of whom seemed most interested in getting to know him.

"Wonderful, clearly my girlfriend has great taste in men. Not that I didn't know that already, of course. Right, folks, on with the party. . ."

*

The party finally came to an end at around two in the morning when McGonagall appeared for the second time and started taking away five points for every thirty seconds that people were still in the common room.

The last one into the boy's dormitory was Harry, who had escaped increasing the total to twenty points lost by the skin of his teeth. He stood breathless on the stairs, the remains of Ginny's lip gloss still glistening on his own lips. Dean and Seamus had their ears to the door to the common room.

"No good," Seamus said resignedly. "She's settled in. She'll probably be there all night."

"Nah, not all night," Ron said. "But the girls are probably all asleep already."

"And a party's no fun without girls?" Dean asked seriously. Neville sniggered.

"Well? It's not," Ron said. "And if you reckon otherwise, Thomas, you're a bigger liar then Trelawney."

"You know what, Ron? I think I just figured out who that friend I'm going to betray is," Dean said good-naturedly.

A promising scuffle between the two friends was broken up by McGonagall banging the door open and glaring at them. Harry didn't feel too bad as they made their way up to their room. Ten extra points lost wasn't that much between the five of them.

__

To be continued. . .

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	15. Chapter Fourteen: Letters From Far From ...

**__**

Chapter Fourteen: Letters From Far From Home

Harry was awakened a few days later by the soft tapping of Hedwig at the dormitory window. He clambered unhappily from his bed, for it was very early, and made his way to the window. Hedwig fluttered through on the chilly autumn breeze and hooted softly as Harry shut the window and untied the letter from her leg. She glided gracefully over to his bedside table, and sipped daintily from the goblet of water he had put there the night before.

Harry climbed back into bed and sat the letter on the bedside table. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep. It didn't work. Whenever he was on the verge of dozing off, he caught himself wondering what the letter read. Eventually, and with a mournful sigh for the lost hours of sleep, he turned over and picked up the letter. He slipped on his glasses and opened up the parchment. Remus' neat handwriting stared up at him from the page. Moving his glasses, he rubbed his eyes to chase away the sleep and started reading.

__

Dear Harry,

We're glad to hear that things have started well this year. Sorry it's taken so long to get back to you, but as you can imagine we're pretty busy. Business is keeping us moving and there's a lot of paperwork, accounts and so on. I'm sure you understand.

Incidentally Harry, phases of the moon? You're not anywhere near as funny as you think you are. That's okay, though, your Dad loved that joke too. He actually was pretty good at Divination. He had a great imagination on him, though, and I think our teacher was even more gullible than Trelawney.

As for your Exploding Snap problem, I do have an idea how to help. The challenge in matching your staggering achievements is being able to perform under pressure. I don't want people going crazy over this sort of thing, it's not worth it, but a little bit of a scare here and there can help people perform wonders.

As for explaining the rules, well, don't. People will pick it up quickly enough, and if they don't want to play at first, then they can just watch. The only way you can improve people's abilities is by testing them, expanding their ranges. They'll keep up with you if they want to, so don't worry about how to move so slowly that everyone can keep up.

I understand from a mutual friend that you had fun in Diagon Alley last time you were there. It's an interesting place, and the people you can meet there know all sorts of things that can prove to be useful. I always find that someone you bump into unexpectedly can prove to be the most interesting part of your day. I've learnt a lot from that sort of meeting.

Glad to hear that Ginny made the team. I'm sure I don't need to remind you to stay in your own changing room at all times. Padfoot wants to say something about this. Hang on.

****

I want to be sure you're behaving yourself, Harry. I'm not ready to be a great godparent yet, understand?

Harry blushed deeply, and was profoundly grateful Ron wasn't awake. This was one letter he wouldn't be showing the others.

**__**

Anyway, Ginny's family would kill you before I even got a chance to hear the news, I'm sure. 

Harry could barely believe what he was reading. 

__

What exactly does Sirius think of me? Harry thought._ I'm not even thinking about that stuff until Ginny is a _lot_ older._

He grimaced.

__

Okay, he admitted to himself. _I'm not going to actually _do_ any of that stuff until Ginny is a lot older._

He turned back to the letter.

**__**

Moony says I'm being too hard on you, but I'm just making up in quality for all the chats I'm not around to give you in quantity. Seriously, Harry, you do not want to go there.

Moony again, Harry. I've sent Padfoot to his room to think about what he did. I don't think he'll pick on you again.

He has a point, though. Be honest, Harry, the thought has crossed your mind, I'm sure. Still, don't act on it.

There endeth the lesson as the Marauders would give it. Trust me when I say for once that you're lucky your Dad isn't around to give it. He was always very in favour of acting properly. If in doubt, just imagine Ron and the other Weasley men standing over you.

Anyway, we'd better go. Hope Hedwig doesn't mind the flight, but we're pretty far south right now. Still, she'll be happy to stretch her wings, I'm sure. She's been a bit cooped up in here with us the last few days.

Write back soon,

M & P

Harry put the letter away in his trunk and sank back into his bed. How on earth was he ever going to look Sirius and Remus in the eye again?

His last thought as he sunk back into sleep was; _And how am I going to give people a scare?_

*

Herbology that day was even more sapping than normal. Halloween was approaching, and the autumn winter had bitten hard. In response, Professor Sprout had increased the heating charms around the greenhouse to almost unbearable levels. Harry was among the many who abandoned their robes almost as soon as he walked into the greenhouse. Stripped down to his shirtsleeves, Harry was still sweltering by the time they reached break. A house elf arrived during break with drinks for the class, and Harry took his goblet gratefully. The orange juice tasted wonderful, and he rolled the cool goblet over his forehead as well. Looking back into the greenhouse, he cast a baleful eye over the Audrus Audrus plants that were that lesson's practical subjects. The plants resembled Venus Flytraps, except they were snapping at the students rather than any of the late season insects that had taken refuge in the warmth of the greenhouse.

"Vicious, aren't they? We had to deal with them last year."

Harry turned around and smiled at Cho. The Ravenclaw girl had her collar unbuttoned, her sleeves rolled up, what looked suspiciously like calves liver in her hair and two slashes across the front of her jumper. Harry didn't want to think about what seventh year Magical Creatures project she was working on that had done that to her. "If they had legs, Hagrid would be teaching us about them, not Sprout," he said.

"I've seen Hagrid hanging around this greenhouse," Cho said. "I think he's hoping for a cutting."

"A cutting? He can take one of Skeeter's swords to them for all I care," Harry said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just got a letter in at about five o'clock this morning," he said, leaning back against the greenhouse. From the outside, it was pleasantly warm, and Harry had left his robe inside.

"Strange time to get a letter," Cho said. She leaned on the greenhouse next to him. "Not from one of the Brisbane kids, was it?"

Harry thought briefly of Nick and Josh, two Australian students he'd met the previous year. "No, it was from my godfather."

"Oh. I didn't know you had, well. . ." she tailed off, blushing slightly.

__

I didn't mean to mention Sirius. Blast.

"I didn't know either, not until a few years ago. He had to go away just after I was born."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you have someone," Cho said. She looked as though she wished she hadn't said anything. "I mean, I know you don't have it easy, but, I mean, er. . ."

Harry smiled at her.

"Thank you," he said gently.

She looked at the ground for a moment. "Harry, can I ask you something?" she said quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry replied. He watched her intently as she chewed on her lip.

"Can we. . . talk sometime? About, well, about. . ."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Harry asked. Cho looked up sharply, and Harry was horrified to see tears in her eyes.

"Would that be okay?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Of course. When do you want to do it?"

"Could we meet up a week on Saturday? It's Hogsmeade weekend, and I thought we could find somewhere quiet to talk."

"Yeah, no problems," Harry said as Professor Sprout appeared at the greenhouse door to call them back in. "I'll talk to you before then, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Harry," Cho said. She smiled slightly as he trudged dispiritedly back to his Audrus Audrus.

*

"What was that about?" Ron asked. He was slapping at his Audrus plant with the flat of a trowel, and seemed to be enjoying himself, if not entirely focusing on the conversation at hand.

"Cho wanted to talk to me alone sometime," Harry said. "About, well, you know. . . Anyway, we said we'd get together next Saturday when everyone's in Hogsmeade."

"Don't you have plans with Ginny that day?" Hermione asked, expertly tickling her Audrus under its chin so that it opened its jaws wide and let her pour a bottle of plant food inside.

"Er, no, not yet," Harry admitted. "I know I shouldn't abandon her on a Hogsmeade weekend, but I have to talk to Cho at some point." He slapped at his Audrus, which was winding a creeper around his wrist. "I've been expecting her to come and want to talk since last year," he added tiredly. "I don't know what to say to her."

"Just tell her the truth," Ron said distractedly, ducking as his plant lunged at him. With a victorious whoop he managed to throw his plant food, bottle and all, into the plant's gaping mouth. A quick "_Reducto!_" burst the bottle and the Audrus swallowed in surprise.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Professor Sprout called from the end of the potting bench. "I don't want you using magic around these plants They're far too fragile."

"Fragile," Ron repeated as they left the greenhouse an hour later. "She's mad. I swear, I could almost think that Hagrid's taking Herbology at the moment. Some of the plants we've had this year are just _evil_."

"Mmm, interesting though, aren't they," Hermione said. She was watching Harry, who seemed to be in a world of his own. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Yeah, very interesting," Harry replied in a distracted voice. "Better than Herbology, isn't it?"

Ron stopped short. "What?"

Harry looked at him. "What?"

Hermione sighed. "Sometimes I wonder how I keep up with you two. Such witty repartee, such stunning conversation. . ." She laughed as they looked at her indignantly.

"Harry, what were you thinking about?"

"Cho," Harry sighed. "She's going to ask me. . . Well, you _know_ what she's going to ask me, right?"

Hermione nodded sympathetically. Ron looked from one to the other in bemusement.

"Hello?" he said, waving his hand between them. "Someone here who doesn't speak the same language as you two. What are you two going on about?"

"Oh honestly Ron, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said. "Cho will want to know if Cedric said anything about her to Harry when he. . ." She tailed off. Even after nearly eighteen months, it was still painful to talk about Cedric.

"Oh, right," Ron said. He looked at the ground, his ears colouring pinkly in a way that Harry suspected had little to do with the cool autumn wind blowing around them. "Did he?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. He had told almost no-one, not even Ginny, what had really happened on that horrible night. Only Sirius and Professor Dumbledore knew the full story. Whenever he thought about it, Harry was almost overwhelmed by the painful memories.

"No," he said eventually. "The way he died, he didn't have time to say anything."

Hermione and Ron bowed their heads for a moment. They had seen the Avada Kedavra curse in use, and the thought of Cedric falling lifeless to the ground sent shivers down their spines. Reflexively, Hermione reached for Ron's hand. He took it and squeezed it gently.

"Come on," he said. "We'd better get in to lunch. I'm not going to think of what to say to her standing out here."

*

The next few days passed slowly. Harry felt a mounting sense of dread whenever he saw Cho pass by. He found he was looking for her in the hallways now, trying to judge her mood. The few times that he'd seen her during the previous year had given him no indication of how she would act when they had their discussion.

One piece of good news was that Ginny didn't mind Harry missing the trip to Hogsmeade.

"I know you have to have this talk with her," she said, curled up against him in one of the Gryffindor common room's oversized armchairs. "So of course I don't mind you missing the trip. I can go with Dean and the others. He already asked me the other day."

Harry looked over to where Dean was engaged in a heated game of Exploding Snap with Josh and Vickie, and felt a pang of jealousy that his roommate would be enjoying his Saturday. He leant forward and kissed Ginny's forehead.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered to her. "No-one kept faith with me for as long as you did. Hermione and Ron have both wanted to chuck me off the Astronomy Tower over the least few years, but you've always been there for me. Forgive me for being too stupid to realise it."

"You're forgiven," she giggled. "Besides, Hermione always had faith in you. And Ron only thought you were a prat in the fourth year because you wouldn't admit you were a prat."

"Fine. I'm a prat," Harry smiled. "Will Ron forgive me now?"

"Ron forgave you two years ago," she laughed. "You do remember that, right?"

"You mean that you tricked me into admitting to being a prat?" Harry said, grinning down at her.

"I guess I did. Aren't I clever?"

The two laughed, and Harry felt some of the dread lift from him as he held Ginny close.

*

By the Sunday night, Harry was actually starting to feel like the talk with Cho would be a good experience. Admittedly, it would be good in the sense that a trip to the dentist was good; Harry would feel happier for it being over. Nonetheless, he found himself thinking of the night of the third task a little more often, and it was less of a strain to do so. He knew that he would never feel comfortable remembering Voldemort's resurrection, nor the way he had duelled with the former Tom Riddle. However, having something other than his own emotions to focus on allowed him to view the memories with a greater sense of detachment that he welcomed.

That week went by much as any other. Harry struggled through Potions on Wednesday. Goyle had returned to his usual state of hopelessness, and when he melted another cauldron –a school one, as Goyle had melted Harry's, Ron's Neville's and eventually his own- Snape lost his temper and actually took points from Slytherin for the first time that anyone could remember. Ron was crowing with delight as they left the classroom.

"Twenty points! And he only took five from Neville for turning Pansy Parkinson into a whelk. This may be the best day of my life."

"You don't exactly have high standards, do you?"

"Oh, come on Hermione, even you have to admit that it was a laugh watching Goyle trying to work out how many points twenty was."

Hermione smiled very slightly. "Well, yes, I suppose it was _slightly_ amusing, but really Ron, it's not very in keeping with the idea of getting on with everyone is it?"

"Hermione, I like the ideas as much as anyone, I really do," Ron said. "But it's going to be a while before I can accept Goyle as a decent bloke, okay? I mean, there's the way Crabbe and him keep trying to get Harry in trouble, for a start."

"You think that's what they're doing?" Harry asked. Even with all the accidents they'd caused, he'd thought that they were just thick.

"Well, they may just be thick," Ron said. "But I find it hard to believe that Goyle's melted four cauldrons in seven practical lessons. Even Neville's never done that. And he only does it when you're his partner, you notice that?"

Harry hadn't. "This is why you beat me at chess every time we play, isn't it?" he asked. "You're good at spotting patterns and stuff."

"Yeah, guess so," Ron said, colouring slightly. "I still can't beat Dad, though. He's amazing. Plays with a set of Muggle chessmen, too."

"Maybe that's why Professor Dumbledore wants your Dad to help him? I mean, if you can work out what Crabbe and Goyle are up to, maybe your Dad is working out what their Dads are up to."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron said. "Thing is, if you're right and I'm wrong, then I'll be embarrassed about thinking Crabbe and Goyle haven't changed. If you're right and my Dad's wrong, though, then things could be a bit more serious."

"Well, you'll just have to trust your Dad not to get anything wrong, won't you?" Hermione said.

"Yeah, besides, if he can beat you at chess, I don't reckon that Crabbe and Goyle's Dads can be much of a challenge," Harry said. Ron smiled appreciatively as the three of them made this way into the Great Hall for dinner.

*

Later that night, Harry tossed and turned as he tried vainly to get some sleep. Normally he felt exhausted after Double Potions, but Ron's enthusiasm for Goyle's points loss had been infectious and the two of them had laughed about it until Ron dropped off to sleep. Harry could hear him snoring gently on the far side of the room.

Harry sat up and thumped his pillows several times to try and make them comfortable. Lying back down, he curled up under the heavy blanket and closed his eyes.

Five minutes later he gave up, and got out of bed to get a drink of water. Lying back down, he sighed heavily. He didn't feel in the least bit tired. 

__

It's Thursday tomorrow. Herbology in the morning. I suppose I'll see Cho at break time. We can sort out where we're going to go on Saturday. . .

It was Harry's last conscious thought as he drifted suddenly into restless sleep.

*

"Master?"

"Tell me of your progress."

"As slow as we imagined. The information we have before us is so great, and the clues we are looking for are likely to be tiny, if indeed they exist at all."

"I must be patient, you mean."

"We must all be patient my lord."

"I am immortal. Time has no meaning. Make sure that no one else can find the information, however."

"Of course, my lord."

The man was shown from the chamber. Although his head was hooded, Harry knew that he was sweating heavily.

"Besides, I have other pursuits to entertain me, don't I, Wormtail?"

Peter Pettigrew stpped out of the shadows in the corner of the room. He wasn't masked, and every drop of sweat was visible on his brow. He looked dreadful, completely bald now, with his grey skin hanging off him. Harry wondered if he could eat at all, or whether he threw everything up as soon as he swallowed it. "Yes master. Your orders have been carried out exactly as you requested," he whispered, wringing his hands as he trembled. Harry saw the candle light of the room glint off Wormtail's silver hand.

"Lord Voldemort does not _request_, Wormtail."

"O-of course, master, a mere slip of the tongue, I-"

"You live by my will alone, Wormtail. Lord Voldemort's gratitude is not infinite, even if my life is."

"Of course, master. Your will shall be carried out, exactly as you ordered."

"See that it is, Wormtail. I imagine I do not need to explain to you again what will happen if Albus Dumbledore's motley collection of mudbloods, half-bloods and blood traitors find Le Fay's last resting place before I do."

"No master. I understand perfectly what will happen."

"I consider that unlikely, Wormtail. I know you have little imagination, although I suppose that over these last years you have truly come to understand and appreciate pain. Rest assured that if I am thwarted once more then I shall ensure that my suffering, great though it shall be, shall pale in comparison to that of my worthless followers."

Pettigrew muttered something about checking on the preparations and headed for the door.

"Before you leave. . ."

From the way Wormtail tensed, he seemed to know what was coming. There wasn't even any flash of light, he just screamed, and his legs buckled under him. His shabby robes pooled around him as he curled up on the floor, the effects of the Cruciatus curse shredding him tortuously.

Harry buckled to his knees, the pain from his scar tearing through his skull as Wormtail screamed. Harry's sight blurred into blackness as his fingers clawed at the air.

And then, as soon as it had begun, it stopped. Wormtail lay whimpering on the floor of the room, great shuddering breaths escaping him as he tried to stand.

"Go now, and see that my forces are ready. Do not fail me, Wormtail."

"No, master," Wormtail managed to whisper as he somehow dragged himself from the room.

For the first time, Harry looked at the figure seated on a chair atop a raised dais at the back of the room. Lord Voldemort sat languidly in the chair, the fingers of one hand drumming on the arm of the chair. His face was exactly as Harry remembered; Pale, cold, reptilian with its large eyes and slits where his nostrils should have been. As Harry watched, Voldemort's thin, lipless mouth spread into a wide, toothless, sinister smile. Voldemort settled back in his chair, and Harry could feel the wave of pleasure radiating off him like a snake slithering across the floor. 

"And then," Voldemort said quietly to himself. "Then we shall truly make people suffer."

Voldemort's grin grew still wider, and he started to laugh.

Harry's scar exploded in pain.

His eyes slammed open, and Harry snapped upright in bed, gasping for breath as his scar pulsed angrily on his forehead. Stumbling from his bed and out of the dormitory, he made it to the common room before dropping at his knees, clutching at his head.

*

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes fluttered open. He looked around him, his vision blurred. He reached up gingerly to touch his scar, and felt the coolness of an ice pack laying on his forehead.

The cold triggered a rush of memories and sensations as Harry came to full wakefulnesss.

"Voldemort!" he gasped, trying to sit upright. Strong hands clasped his arms and forced him back onto the bed. He realised that he was in the hospital wing as someone spoke to him.

"Lie down, mate. It's alright."

"Ron?" He looked at his friend, whose face was changing colour swiftly from ashen concern to furious pink. 

"Yeah, Harry. Listen, you ever do that again and I swear I'll tear you a new-"

There was a cough from the other side of Harry's bed. Harry turned away from Ron and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting calmly, with Ginny beside him. Ginny was red eyed, and even paler than Ron had been.

"I believe that what Mr. Weasley is trying to say is that Miss Weasley here found you lying on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, and she was rather perturbed when she could not awaken you."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He tried to catch Ginny's eye, but she was staring into her lap. She gulped, and nodded slightly, but wouldn't look at him.

"What were you doing down there, anyway?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort," Harry said again. "I had a dream, but it wasn't a dream, you know?"

"A vision?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. The Headmaster looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry. "Do you remember anything about it?"

Harry recounted what he had seen. When he told the three of them about Voldemort placing the Cruciatus curse on Wormtail, Ginny shuddered and Ron hissed. Dumbledore, however, looked unperturbed. Reaching inside his robe, he pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"You may wish to read this," he said.

Harry looked at the front page.

**__**

DARK ATTACKS

The Dark Mark was seen again for the first time in nearly three months last night, writes your special correspondent Rita Skeeter._ The homes of several Ministry of Magic workers were assaulted, but protective measures set in place by Deputy Minister Arthur Weasley repelled the attacks._

Not so lucky, however, was the Museum of Medieval Magic, located in Tooting Bec, London. The Museum was attacked by approximately thirty dark wizards, and the museum's curator, Circa Centauri, was subjected to the Cruciatus curse while several of the wizards ransacked his office. Whether or not they found what they were looking for is not known, although Centauri was able to confirm that they did not query him regarding any specific information before being taken to St. Mungo's for treatment.

Although these attacks were believed to have been brought to an end by Ministry action, Minister Fudge now faces further questions about what action he will take over this latest dark activity. Rumours of a return from the grave by He Who Must Not be Named have been spreading for over a year now, since Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived...

Harry put the paper down, not wanting to relive the issues Skeeter would bring up.

"This is true, isn't it?" he asked. "Rita Skeeter wrote this, and she can be trusted, can't she?" he said, looking at Ron.

"Yes. Rita Skeeter had a break from her job last year, and seems to have returned with a renewed passion for the truth," Dumbledore said gravely. "While I am not sure quite what caused this change, I think it admirable that she is now seeking out the facts," he added, with what Harry thought might have been a small smile.

"However, the fact remains that Harry's vision last night coincided with a resurgence of attacks by Voldemort's forces."

Ron shuddered at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"It seems that after a year of relative peace for you," Dumbledore continued, politely ignoring Ron's discomfort, "you are once again to be subject to Voldemort's mood swings. I wish there were a way to spare you this, Harry, but-"

"But the information could be useful. If I don't collapse before I can tell someone. What time were the attacks carried out?"

"At around four o'clock this morning," Dumbledore said. "Miss Weasley found you at around half past."

"I couldn't sleep last night," Harry said. "It must have been pretty late when I finally did fall asleep. I can't have been dreaming for more than a few minutes. If I could have just held on. . ."

"Come now, Harry. Even if you had been able to find me –and for the record, I was away from the school last night- then you had no idea what the attacks would be, nor even that there would be attacks last night. No, you cannot blame yourself for Voldemort's actions."

Harry nodded glumly. He looked again at Ginny, who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. He looked at Dumbledore and Ron.

"Could we. . ?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Come, Mr. Weasley. Let us find Miss Granger so that she can fill you in on the exciting classes that you missed out on today. I am sure that there will be a great deal of work for you to catch up on."

Dumbledore and Ron left the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey passed by to give Harry a foul smelling potion. And then Harry and Ginny were alone.

She didn't seem to move. She was just there beside him, hugging him hard in a way that he felt would surely crack his ribs. He wasn't complaining, though. Instead, he returned the embrace with equal force. It seemed a long time until either one lessened their grip.

"I'm sorry I scared you," Harry said at last.

"You'd better be," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face against his chest. "If you ever do that again, you'll be lucky if Ron gets to you first."

Harry laughed out loud, and tipped Ginny's head back. He kissed her, gently at first and then with a passion born of fear, and hatred of all that she was not.

__

No fear, he thought at last. _So long as I have this girl beside me, I'm not scared._

*

Madam Pomfrey ordered Harry to stay in the hospital wing overnight, to ensure he was fully recovered. Harry knew that it would be pointless to argue, and so resigned himself to another night in the hospital wing. At least if he had another bad dream, it wouldn't disturb the others.

Hermione dropped by after dinner and took Harry through the lessons he'd missed. Belatedly, he realised that he'd missed the Herbology lesson where he'd hoped to see Cho.

"Oh, it's okay," Hermione said. "She said that she'd rearrange it with you once you were out of here. She thought you wouldn't want to talk about, well, that, if you were ill."

"Hermione, do me a favour. Find her tomorrow and say that we'll meet as planned, would you? I want to get this talk out of the way. Tell her I'll meet her at the Quidditch pitch on Saturday at eleven, if that's alright by her."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "Of course I will."

"Working hard?" a familiar voice came from the doorway. Professor Dumbledore came in and peered at their work.

"Ah, Herbology. Not a great strength of mine, although I have endless admiration for Professor Sprout and her tireless attempts to spread compost throughout the school."

Hermione giggled, and Harry smiled.

"Now, I shan't interrupt for too long, but your friend Ronald mentioned you were looking for a way to scare your Duelling Club pupils, Harry?"

Harry nodded, remembering the letter from Sirius and Remus. It all seemed like a long time ago, even though it had only been a week previously.

"Well, Professor McGonagall has informed me that a Boggart has managed to find its way into the school. Should you wish, it could be used for the Duelling Club."

"Yeah, that'd be good, actually," Harry said, his mind running through the possibilities. "It'd give the others a Dementor to practise their Patronus charms against, which is how I learned."

"Excellent. I shall ask Mr. Filch not to evict it from the premises just yet, then. If you see Professor McGonagall, she will tell you where to find it when you are ready. They do tend to flit around."

Even when Dumbledore had left, Harry continued to think about using the Boggart-Dementor in his Duelling Club sessions. He wondered how close he should stand to it to make sure that it would stay a Dementor even with other people coming forward to tackle it. He wondered-

"Harry? Harry, are you listening to me at all?"

"What? Oh, sorry Hermione. I just think that using the Boggart will really give the Duelling Club a lift, you know?"

"Yes, well, even so, the next meeting isn't until after Halloween, whereas this essay has to be handed in by Monday lunchtime."

Reluctantly, Harry tore his thoughts away from the Boggart and the Duelling Club, and focussed once more on the feeding habits and digestive process of the Matricius plant, which slowly consumed its prey after causing them to hallucinate that they were going about their lives in a normal manner.

__

Just imagine that, Ron had scribbled on Hermione's notes. _You could be imagining you're in Double Potions, and dying as well. Not sure which is worse, myself._

To be continued…

****

Eric2: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the party. I wanted a few lighter moments in the story.

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Frantic: *Laughs* That must be the most enthusiastic review I've had for a while. Thanks for the comments on the Quidditch match. I put a lot of effort into the matches in this story, especially the Gryffindor ones. Hope the new story goes well!


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Harry’s Greatest Fear

**__**

Chapter Fifteen: Harry's Greatest Fear

Harry was released from the hospital wing on Friday morning, just in time to begin a full day of study. He was able to scrape through Herbology class with Hermione's notes open under the desk, and was grateful to make his to Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid had a pack of wolves on display for them to study.

"'Course, these ain't just any wolves," he said.

"They're not werewolves, are they?" Neville asked, a little nervously.

"'Course not. 'Onestly Neville, you were _taught_ by a werewolf, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Neville said, colouring slightly. 

"Anyway," Hagrid went on. "Look at 'em. You know the differences between a wolf and a werewolf. Do they look like werewolves to you?"

The sixth years looked at the wolves. No one seemed prepared to say one way or whether the animals were just wolves or whether they were werewolves. Hagrid sighed.

"Right then, ten points to anyone who can tell me three ways you can tell the difference between a real wolf and a werewolf."

Hermione's hand shot up.

"'Course_ you_ can, Hermione," he said, looking at the others. "'Onestly, you all _learnt _all this in yer third year. Go on, Hermione."

"A true wolf differs from a werewolf as it has a more pointed snout, round pupils, and a sleek tail. A werewolf has a short, stubby snout, cat-like pupils, and a bushy tail."

"Yeah, right. Ten points to Gryffindor," Hagrid said. "'Onestly, sometimes I wonder about you lot. Now, write down what Hermione just said. These are real wolves, got it? See the tails? I won't ask yer to get close enough to look into their eyes. We'll save that for next week when we do the practical part."

Neville's eyes widened in horror.

"What's up with Hagrid?" Ron asked Harry as they scribbled down the differences between wolves and werewolves. Harry shrugged.

The wolves began to grow tired of being held captive, and started to whine and growl. Hagrid thumped the pen they were in hard, and the wolves fell silent.

"Overgrown puppies," he sighed. "Shame to put 'em in a pen, but it's not fer long."

"Are they very magical, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, yeah they are," Hagrid replied. "Alright you lot, listen up. A wolf's got a fair bit of natural magic about it. For a start, it's absolutely in tune with its habitat. Not many creatures are, but a wolf can tell if someone new has bin nearby in the last week or so. Not just a good sense of smell, right? It can sense distortions in the magical field. They're got amazing memories, as well. They can remember someone who was kind to them, or bad, for years, long after most other creatures'd forget. Worth bearing in mind, that, case you're ever nasty to a wolf.

"Oh, yeah, they've got the howl, too. The howl'll spread word for miles around, and each wolf can pick it up and send it on. It don't matter where in the world a wolf comes from, it can understand the howl. That's part of their magic, too. You can drop an Alaskan timber wolf in the middle of Russia and it'd be able to chat with the locals as easy as you lot chatting about Quidditch. 'Course, these wolves are even smarter than yer normal wolf, bein' as how they hang around Hogwarts. Bit more magic in the air for 'em to use, see?

"Right, get that written down. Now, the feeding of wolves is dead simple, and that's what we'll be doing next lesson. What you do is, you take a friend you've had a bit of an argument with, knock him on the head, and chuck him in the pen."

Hagrid looked around the shocked faces and chuckled.

"I'm jokin'," he laughed. "'Onestly, the looks on yer faces. No, we'll be feeding them on fresh meat. Got ter be fresh, see? Wolves are dead picky about what they'll eat, and frozen or rotten meat is no good. 'Course, they prefer to kill their food, but they won't say no to a bit of fresh deer if it's offered.

"Now, yer homework is two feet on the wolf packs and the way they choose a leader. That should be enough to be going on with."

The class began packing up and getting ready to go in for lunch. Harry took the opportunity to go up to Hagrid and ask if he was okay.

"Yeah, not bad, not bad," Hagrid replied. "Jus' had a bit of bad news las' night is all."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Shouldn' really say," Hagrid muttered, looking around to see if anyone was watching. "I suppose it can't hurt to tell you a bit. You know Olympe - Madame Maxine - an' me were talking to the giants for Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, how's that going?"

"Well, we _thought_ it was going okay," Hagrid sighed. "Seems we mighter bin wrong about that. See, we've bin going up to them most weeks since last summer, ever since we found out where they were."

"Where were they?"

Hagrid looked around before answering. "Up north some, 'not too far away from here, actually."

"Oh," Harry replied. "I wouldn't have thought that giants would want to be so close to humans, especially wizards."

"They wouldn't, normally. Don't think they'd been there long when we found 'em. Thought they were in Russia at first, that's where they were last time they were heard of."

"They went from Russia to Scotland? How'd they manage that?"

Hagrid's beetle black eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Harry, some of 'em are twenty-five feet tall. You think they have much trouble getting about?"

"Oh, no, I suppose not," Harry said. "twenty-five feet? How big are you?"

"Twelve feet two inches," Hagrid said. "'Course, me Dad was on'y a normal human, and a short 'un at that. On'y the really big ones are twenty-five feet, though. Most are twenty-one, twenty-two, tops."

"So, what was the bad news?"

"They've moved, an' without tellin' us an' all."

"Oh. Will you have trouble finding them again?"

"Could be, yeah," Hagrid said. "They're pretty good at hiding, well, they have to be if they don't want everyone coming to have a look at them."

"What are they like, Hagrid?"

"Vicious," Hagrid said immediately. "Absolutely vicious. Why d'you think people treat me the way they do? They think I'm like them."

"Aren't you scared, then?"

"Well, yeah," Hagrid said. "It helps having Olympe around, 'cause she can do a lot more magic then I can, but most giants don't like that. They sorta trust me more, 'cos my Mum lived with them for a bit, so they've heard of me."

"Is your Mum not with them any more?"

"No, she died about twenty years ago," Hagrid said, a little sadly.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Hagrid."

"It's okay. She weren't much of a Mum. Didn't really know her, don't remember much of her. Just a big woman, you know? She left when I was three."

"Is Madame Maxine going to follow them?" Harry asked.

"She can't, really," Hagrid said. "She has to work at Beauxbatons. I might have to take some time off and try an' find them myself. Shouldn't be too bad. Professor Grubbly-Plank or someone can cover. Besides, it only takes a few minutes to Apparate most places."

"Yeah, it won't be the same without you here, though, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Cheers, Harry. I gotta admit, I don't like bein' away from here either."

*

Friday turned into Saturday with indecent haste. Harry struggled through Sprout's Herbology assignment and Flitwick's Charms work, but he enjoyed Hagrid's essay. As well as being short, it reminded him of Lupin and Sirius. He wondered what the two friends were up to.

By the time Saturday dawned, Harry was awake and in the common room once more. The flagstones were cold against his bare feet as he sat by the window, watching the sunrise as he scribbled furiously at the Potions essay Snape had assigned him the previous day. Harry was already sweating over it, despite the cool air, and got up to get himself a goblet of water, yawning tiredly as he did so. Then he saw something that made him stop, mid yawn.

"Dobby?"

Dobby was staggering across the common room, a full rubbish sack over one shoulder and another dragging behind him as he walked. The house elf looked up with a start, and seemed horrified at getting caught.

"Harry Potter sir, Dobby is not seeing you there."

"Dobby, what's going on? Why are you doing all this yourself?"

"Dobby. . ." Dobby tailed off, staring at one of the rugs on the floor. "Dobby does not like to say sir. Dobby does not want to cause trouble, Harry Potter sir."

"Dobby, are you in trouble? Did you have to punish yourself?"

"No sir. Dobby is punishing himself much less frequently now he no longer works for Mr. Malfoy."

"Then why are you doing all the work here by yourself? Couldn't Winky or someone help?"

"Ah, Harry Potter sir, Winky is still not feeling right about being given clothes by Mr. Crouch."

"Really? Have you spoken to anyone about it?"

"It is very sad, sir. Winky is not wanting anyone to know.

"But Dobby, it's been two years!" Harry said. "You should see Madam Pomfrey, or Professor Dumbledore. I could ask Hermione, she knows loads about house-"

Dobby flinched.

"Dobby? Is something wrong?"

"No sir," Dobby said, starting to work again. "Dobby is running very late, Harry Potter sir. Dobby must clean all of Gryffindor Tower before helping with breakfast."

"Dobby, has _Hermione_ done something?" Harry asked, staring intently at the house elf. Dobby stopped his work, and looked timidly over his shoulder.

"Dobby is sure mistress is acting for the best, sir," he said. Harry sunk into an armchair.

"It's S.P.E.W. isn't it? That's why you have to do all the work up here by yourself. What's Hermione done?"

"Mistress is trying to help, sir. But the other house elves is not appreciating this. They is not wanting to come up here in case she is talking to them."

"What's so wrong about talking to them?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Mistress is. . . asking questions, Harry Potter sir."

"What sort of questions?" Harry asked.

"The sort of questions that is embarrassing a lot of house elves," Dobby said. "Questions about how much they is earning here, and how much they would like to be earning. About whether they is having any time off, or whether they is being looked after when they is too old to work, but a house-elf is never too old to work, Harry Potter sir."

"So they won't come up here now?"

"No sir."

"And you have to do all the work? How many elves would normally clean up in here?" Harry had taken off his glasses, and was rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Dobby is not minding sir. Dobby is enjoying working at Hogwarts."

"How many, Dobby?" Harry pressed.

"Normally four house elves is doing the cleaning up in here, sir."

"Four. Okay, Dobby, I'll have a word with Hermione. I'm sure she didn't know she was embarrassing people."

"Harry Potter doesn't have to do that, sir."

"No, it's okay Dobby," Harry said, glancing longingly over his shoulder at the stairs up to the dormitory and his nice warm bed. "I'll talk to her. I'm sure it can all be sorted out in no time."

*

In fact Harry didn't see Hermione that morning. She had stayed up late working, and was enjoying a rare lie in. Ginny stopped off to kiss Harry good bye, and wish him good luck for his talk with Cho. She headed off through the portrait hole, linking arms with Vickie and Dean, glancing back with a wink just before she disappeared from view. Harry was still smiling when the clock on the common room wall ticked on to a quarter-to-eleven. With a nod to Ron, who mustered a sympathetic grin before going back to his Potions essay, he headed slowly out of the common room and towards the Quidditch pitch.

Along the way, he passed Mr. Filch, who threw him a filthy look but couldn't say anything against him. Stepping out into the autumn air, he took a deep breath and made his way down to the pitch.

Cho was waiting for him.

"Thanks for coming," she said. "I know you were ill."

"My scar," he said. "Do you want to sit down?"

She nodded, and they made their way up into the stands.

"Your scar made you ill?" Cho asked. Harry nodded. He had decided to tell the truth to Cho, and part of that would include telling her about himself and Voldemort.

"I don't know if you saw the Prophet on Thursday," he said. "There were some attacks. I dreamt about Voldemort giving the order to carry them out. He was laughing, and it made my scar hurt."

Cho was looking him with a hint of concern in her eyes. "Er. . ."

"I know, it sounds mad. I still have trouble believing it, but it's what Professor Dumbledore says."

"You can see what Voldemort is doing?" she asked.

"Not always," he said. "Most of the time, nothing. I can feel when he's feeling really angry, or when he's really close.

"I nearly passed out on the night of the third task," he said quietly.

"When he. . . when Cedric. . ." Cho stammered, her voice uneven. Harry nodded.

"We got carried away by the cup, it was a Portkey and it dumped us in a graveyard. Before we knew what was going on, we were attacked by one of the Death Eaters, a man named Peter Pettigrew. He had Lord Voldemort with him, and Voldemort told him to kill Cedric. Neither of us had the chance to react. Pettigrew hit him with the killing curse. I'm sorry."

Cho sat quietly, staring out over the pitch for a long time.

"He really liked you," she said at last.

"I'm sorry?"

"He liked you. He thought you were an honourable person, telling him about the first task, not making a fuss when we started going out. . ."

Harry looked at his feet.

"If I hadn't been so honourable, Cedric'd still be alive," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" Cho asked.

"At the end of the third task, I convinced him we should take the cup together. If I'd been selfish, I'd have taken it myself. He wouldn't have stopped me."

"You couldn't have known," Cho said immediately. "His parents told me that part. Professor Dumbledore told them that you were blaming yourself, but I thought you would have realised by now it wasn't anything to do with you."

She blinked several times. Harry looked away as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time," she said, shakily. "You can't blame yourself."

"I don't," he said. "Not really. I blame Voldemort."

She nodded, and managed a half-laugh.

"I never noticed before," she said. "You of all people, you say his name. We're bought up to say You-Know-Who, but you say his name."

"Professor Dumbledore always says-"

"-'fear of the name increases fear of the thing'," she smiled. "It's hard to overcome that fear when you've been brought up to see, well, him as the worst thing in the world.

"I know he's the worst thing in the world, I am scared of him, but I don't see any reason why I should make myself any more scared," Harry said.

"You're braver than I am," Cho said. Harry smiled.

"Can I be honest with you about something?"

"Of course," Cho said curiously.

"Everyone seems to think I'm incredibly brave, that when I face Voldemort, or Lucius Malfoy or whatever, I'm cool, calm and collected."

"And you're not?"

"No." He grinned ruefully as he stared out over the pitch. "I'm terrified, and it's not getting any better. The more times I escape, the more I start to wonder whether my number will be up next time. Voldemort is still out there, and he's after me. I don't want to have to be the one who faces him, but it seems at times like that's the only way it's going to happen. I'm going to come up against a much more powerful wizard, and I'm going to die."

They sat in silence for a time.

"Does anyone know you feel like this?" Cho asked eventually.

He leant forward, resting his arms on the seat in front, and let out a great sigh.

"No. It's stupid, isn't it? I've been best friends with Ron and Hermione almost for ever, it seems like, but they still have this incredible faith in me, like they think I can do anything. I have Ginny, who's amazing, and makes me think that I _can_ do anything. When I'm with her, nothing else matters, because I have her. But she suffers because of me. She was so scared when I was ill, and one day-"

He glanced quickly back over his shoulder at Cho, who was sitting in the row behind him, before staring out at the pitch again.

"I'm sorry. We're here to talk about other things, aren't we?"

"It's okay," Cho said, quirking a smile. "You need to let these feelings out, believe me. If you don't, they'll eat you up."

Harry nodded. "For what it's worth," he said. "I'm sorry about Cedric. He was a good guy. He didn't deserve what happened to him."

Cho nodded. "No one does. That's what makes it so horrible. Look at you, you're sixteen, you've lost your parents, you don't even entirely trust your friends. . . Harry, I lost my boyfriend to Voldemort, and for a long time I blamed you. But when I came back to school last year, and I saw you, I knew how wrong that was. I wanted you to suffer for surviving, and as soon as I saw you, I knew that you did suffer, that you _were_ suffering. And you still are suffering. It's all because of V-Voldemort."

She stared at nothing for a long time, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she asked: "_Why_ do you think you'll have to fight him yourself, Harry?"

"Because I always have done," Harry said with a mirthless laugh. "Because it seems like a year without a battle against Voldemort or Death Eaters is a year without any sense to it. Because he only has to be right once, and he'll catch us all off guard."

Cho looked at him, sympathy shining in her eyes. "But the same applies to our side, surely? I know that you know that Professor Dumbledore is organising a resistance against Voldemort."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, slightly surprised.

"Ravenclaw," she said, pointing a thumb at herself. "We're the ones with brains, remember? Not much goes on around here that one of us doesn't know about, and what one of us knows, we all know."

"Right, yeah, smart people," Harry said, with a small smile. "Okay, so Dumbledore's organising a resistance. I still have to be me, I still have to be an example."

"Fine, so be that example, but don't let the pressure squash you flat. I _know_ you know this. You're not trying to do everything in the Duelling Club, you made your friend co-captain of the Quidditch team. You just have to take the next step."

"What step is that?" Harry asked, finding himself interested almost in spite of himself. _Cho doesn't understand, but it can't hurt to listen, I suppose._

"You have to trust people to be able to look after themselves," she said. "You can't do everything, so have faith in other people."

"I do have faith in other people," Harry said, sounding slightly offended.

"Prove it," Cho said. "Trust other people to worry about Voldemort. It doesn't have to be your worry alone."

"But it does have to be my worry," he said. "No one else is walking around with a target on their back. And because I'm a target, so are my friends. Hermione was nearly killed last year by the Dementors."

"Last Christmas? They weren't there for you, were they?"

Harry paused.

"No," he said slowly. "But it's all because of me. It's because of me that Voldemort's back, it's because of me that people are suffering, it's because of me that my best friends spend half their lives walking on eggshells around me, in case I snap. Hagrid said it once. Everything happens to me. I'm Voldemort's target, I'm the Boy Who Lived. I never asked for it, but it's the way things are. I have to accept it, and I have to make the best of it. It's my responsibility, and I have to face it the best way I know how."

Cho stood up.

"Cedric would have said the same," she said quietly. "Just remember something, Harry, Gryffindors may be brave, but you can't do it all alone. Remember what I said. Be like Cedric in another way. Be loyal to the others. I'm sure you've got a lot of power, but your friends can be your greatest strength. Trust me, there's nothing worse than not having someone to go to when you need it."

Cho walked away, leaving Harry to stare thoughtfully out over the Quidditch pitch for a long time.

*

Harry was more than usually quiet over the next few days. His sleep was mercifully uninterrupted by further visions of Voldemort, but he found himself waking at odd times, and staring out of the dormitory window, his eyes hungrily searching the night sky as though he were seeking a Golden Snitch among the silvery stars.

Even Ron was moved to comment on Harry's quietness by the time Halloween dawned on Tuesday morning.

"Harry, you do _not_ look good," he said as they sat across the table from one another at breakfast. "Seriously, mate. Get an early night tonight or something."

"No, I'm fine," Harry said dully. "I just need to sleep through the night. It's like I'm expecting an owl or something to show up."

"Well, you said that you heard from Snuffles last week, right?"

"Yeah. I haven't even had time to write back. I've been trying to think of a way to use the Boggart-"

"Speaking of which, Mr. Potter," came a voice from behind Harry. He turned in his seat to look up at Professor McGonagall. "I assume that you _will_ be collecting the one we have for you in the staff room cloak cupboard at some point? I assure you that the faculty members are becoming rather tired of having to use levitation charms to hang up their cloaks."

Harry smiled. "I'll collect it tonight before the feast, if that's okay?

"That will be fine," she said. "Oh, and Potter?" she added as she went to walk away.

"Yes Professor?"

"Get yourself a decent nights sleep, for heavens sake. You look dreadful."

Ron snorted into his cup of tea as McGonagall strode away toward the staff table. Cleaning up the mess with a napkin, he paused to look up at Harry.

"See? It's not just me who thinks so. Anyway, you're not taking on that Boggart on your own, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "I don't have a problem with Boggarts."

"Right. And I'll beat Hermione on the next Potions test. Look, the thing'll turn into a Dementor if it see you, right? But if it sees me, it'll turn into a spider. So, that way, it'll be much easier to deal with. No arguing, Harry."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, reluctantly. "Thanks."

"What're friends for?" Ron said easily, although Harry could tell from the expression on his face that he didn't relish going up against the giant Boggart-spider again. He frowned. Another time Ron would do something he didn't want to because of his loyalty to Harry.

__

No, I'll take the Boggart alone. Thanks, Ron, but no need for us both to get scared, even if it is_ Halloween_.

*

Thursday was an easy day for Ron, only two classes, one of them a single period. His mind kept wandering to the fantastic feast that would be awaiting the pupils at the end of the day, and even knowing that he would have to face an Acromantula before the feast barely dampened his spirits. They'd barely begun their paired Herbology work after break when his stomach started growling. This made Neville come over with a fit of giggles as they tried to make headway on the Homorphus plant, the leaves of which went into a potion that would turn an Animagus back into their human form. Ron scowled at Neville before making a side note that the Homorphus plant wouldn't work on a werewolf who had been bitten. _Something to put in Hagrid's essay, _he thought as he tried to ignore the hunger pangs.

By the time lunch came around, Ron was so hungry that he barely paid attention to the conversations going on around him. He joined in half-heartedly with the male protests when Lavender, Lisa Turpin and Hannah Abbott tried to start a discussion about whether there would be a Ball that year, but was otherwise silent as he worked stolidly through the chicken and ham pie, mashed potatoes, carrots, pork chops, sprouts and lasagna that made up his various courses. Hermione watched on in mixed fascination and horror while Harry and Ginny, well used to Ron's eating habits, discussed Quidditch and the upcoming Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match that would take place the following weekend.

As the meal drew to a close, Ron looked up at Harry, who was slowly collecting his things for Transfiguration.

"Harry, what time do you want to do this thing tonight?"

"Hmmm? Oh, er, about half-six, I suppose. Dinner's at seven, right?"

"Yeah, okay. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes, should it."

"No. Right. See you then."

*

Halloween was Ron's favourite holiday, even above Christmas, simply because the Halloween feast was just incredible. Toffee apples, liquorice bats, huge lollipops in the shape of zombies, ogres and ghouls. . . All that before the starters even appeared on the table. A small part of him longed for Halloween all year around. Even his mother's lavish feasts rolled in second to the sumptuous spreads laid on for staff and student alike every October the 31st.

Ron was also well aware that he was in his sixth year. He only had two Halloween feasts left before he'd have to leave Hogwarts, maybe never to return. It was almost worth considering taking a teaching post here to come back for the Halloween feasts.

__

Well, maybe if I don't make it as a pro Quidditch player, he thought, before glancing at his watch again.

__

Six forty-five. Harry's not normally late.

Ron's stomach growled as he bounced impatiently up and down on the balls of his feet outside the staff room. This, as much as anything, was enough to convince him to go inside and try and tackle the Boggart without Harry. 

"He probably fell asleep," he thought as walked towards the door. "He could use a good nights sleep," he added as he pushed the door open.

*

"Oh, wow," Seamus said as he and Dean walked through the doors to the Great Hall. "Every year this place just gets better. I'm coming back here as a teacher. No doubt in my mind."

"Come on," Dean said. "Before the first years get it all."

"No chance," Seamus said, grabbing a plate of liquorice bats as he took his seat. "Hey, where's Ron? He's usually elbow deep by now."

"Dunno," Dean shrugged. "Think him and Harry had something to do for the Duelling Club before coming here."

"Shame," Seamus managed, around a mouthful of partly chewed lollipop and toffee apple. "He loves this feast."

"I imagine he'll make up for it. Hey, here come the girls."

Ginny and Hermione came in with Vickie, Lavender, Parvati and Katie. They had made a point of adding appropriate adornments to their robes, and the silvery half moons, stars, lightning bolts and wands glinted in the light from the hundreds of pumpkin lanterns that hovered above their heads.

"Looking good, ladies," Seamus said, swallowing half a toffee apple as Lavender sat next to him.

"Thanks Seamus," Hermione said, who was feeling very cheerful after the Ministry wizards agreed to lift the ban on students taking out books of Arthurian legends. She had quickly checked out five books on Morgan Le Fay and was eager to restart her research. "Where are the others?"

"Well, Neville said something about meeting Daniella," Dean commented as he passed Katie a tureen of creamed pumpkin soup. "I suppose they might make it down here for dessert."

Ginny giggled, and Dean smiled as he caught her eye.

"I dunno where Ron and Harry are. Think they had something to do for the Club."

"Oh, they're probably going after the Boggart that Professor McGonagall found," Hermione said.

"Brrr. . . Rather them than me, then. Remember that banshee it turned into when I faced it?" Seamus asked. "Halloween is no night for fighting one of them things."

"They'll be fine," Hermione said with a wave of her hand. "Ron's really good about his arachnophobia now and, well, I don't see a Boggart being a problem for Harry."

There was general agreement among the others. Even after careful tuition both in Defence Against the Dark Arts the previous year and in the Duelling Club, no-one could produce a Patronus anywhere near as powerful as Harry's. More than powerful enough to beat a Dementor, they were sure it would be no problem for Harry to beat a Boggart-Dementor with it.

"So, what form does your Patronus take?" Hermione asked Seamus.

"It's a bear," he said, grinning proudly. "Dunno why, mind, not many bears back home. Doesn't last more than a few seconds, anyway."

Hermione smiled, before looking over at Lavender. "What about you?"

"A duck," she said, with a giggle. "I don't even know if it would work against a real Dementor. During the fight last spring I was so busy just trying to stop a Death Eater attacking a group of third years that I didn't have a chance to fight one. Besides, a duck? It's a bit silly, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Seamus said loyally. "Ever been attacked by a duck? I have. Nearly pecked my hand off."

"A fowl deed," Dean commented to appalled groans from the others.

"What about you, Dean?" Parvati asked. What's your Patronus?"

Dean stared at the table, before muttering something inaudible to the others.

"What was that?" Seamus asked, enjoying his friend's discomfort.

"I said that I can't cast a Patronus," Dean bristled.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Katie said quickly. "Mine's just a mist."

"Hey, Dean, if you'll help me with my fencing, I'll help with your Patronus," Ginny said. "I know that it helped me a lot when Harry gave me private lessons. It would be good to try and help someone else."

"That'd be good, Ginny, thanks. What's _your_ Patronus, anyway?"

Hermione smiled into her goblet as Ginny blushed a deep crimson.

"It's, er, it's-"

But before Ginny could finish her sentence, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Ron stumbled in, carrying something large and heavy in his arms.

"It's Harry," Seamus said. "But-"

"Harry!" Ginny and Hermione gasped together.

"Someone help!" Ron yelled, as he moved towards the staff table, Harry's pale, lifeless body in his arms. "He won't wake up. _He won't wake up!_"

__

To be continued. . .

A/N: So, is that an evil enough cliffie for you? I don't do many, but when I do, I make them count…

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Eric2: Harry's greatest fear is… what he faced in the staff room that has left him in a coma. Is that still a Dementor? That's a _very_ good question…

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Rhinemir: Thanks! And here you go. Now, can you wait for the next one?

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Frantic: Good guess! Someone _will_ be learning Occlumency later in the story. As for drawing you into the story, hope you're buckled in tight. It might get a bit bumpy from here on in. And the Death Eaters were just after information on Morgan Le Fay

****

Aggiebell: Whew! Okay, let's try and deal with these…

Your previous excellent character and behaviour means that your good intentions will get you a little bit of leniency. Just don't do it again! ;-)

Dean's backstabbing is an important part of the story. 

The letter from Sirius and Remus has proven to be very popular with my reviewers. It's good to have old Padfoot up and alive in this story.

We all love Neville. (And I can't wait for chapter 3!)

Crabbe and Goyle… If only they _talked _then I could do so much more with them. As it is, well, Draco's 'replacement' will have to come from another source…

Here's the talk between Cho and Harry. Harry got worked up over not much, but I think he got a lot out of it.

You'll see a lot more of Voldie before this story is out…


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Reasons To Be Fearful

**__**

Chapter Sixteen: Reasons To Be Fearful

"We found this in the pocket of his robes," Professor McGonagall said to Hermione. She held out a battered piece of parchment that had been screwed up into a ball.

__

Harry,

I wish that there were an easier way to say this, but I don't have much time. Snuffles has been hurt, and he's in a critical condition. I managed to get him to St Mungo's, but the doctors have put him in an isolation ward. They've never seen anything like it, they say.

He's been poisoned by a strange spell that I've never even heard of. I'm not sure what I'll do, if I'll carry on with the work we have or if I'll stay here and wait for him to get better. For the next week or so I don't have any orders, so I'll be here at the hospital. You know how to contact me, but I can't get in to see him. The doctors are very serious about the isolation.

Sorry I can't be more comforting. I'm still rather shaken by our being ambushed.

I'll owl you as soon as I have more news,

Moony

"Poor Harry," Hermione whispered. On the other side of the corridor, Ron stood with his arm around Ginny as she stared blankly at the floor.

"As best we can tell, Harry received that message sometime between his last class of the day and six o'clock. When he tackled the Boggart-"

"-it was too much for him," Ron finished, his voice hollow. "I mean, I took it out okay when I found him. I think it was confused that Harry fainted, it barely had time to start changing. "

"Very likely, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "There's a very good chance that Harry was just too unfocussed to take on a Boggart, especially as it would have turned into a Dementor when it saw him. Of course, that doesn't explain the damage to the staff room. Everything within five metres of Potter was reduced to firewood"

Ginny emitted a choking cough that earned her worried glances from the other three, but she schooled her features into an expression of controlled worry. All three could see how badly she was hurt, however. Harry was lying still and unresponsive in the hospital wing for the second time in a week. The other students had been buzzing with gossip as Dumbledore dismissed them from the Great Hall to return to their dormitories. 

". . .looked almost dead. . ."

". . .what could take down _him?_"

". . .what if You-Know-Who. . ."

". . .that redhead who brought him in. . ."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, fighting once more the tears that had threatened to spring forth when an idle remark from someone that she didn't even know had connected Ron with Harry's condition.

". . .Miss Granger?"

Hermione snapped back to the real world. "Sorry, Professor, it's just a lot to take in," she said wearily.

"I understand," McGonagall replied. Her expression softened. "I imagine that Potter would tell you not to worry, that he'll be fine, that he's been through worse."

"He's a terrible liar," Ron said, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Always has been."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall didn't smile. "Well, Madam Pomfrey is looking after him, Professor Dumbledore is investigating Sirius' condition -how exactly Sirius will avoid recognition I don't know- and all you three can do is go to bed. It is, after all, nearly eleven o'clock and you will all be expected to be in class tomorrow morning."

Nobody argued. Nobody had the strength or the will to. They made their way silently back to their dormitories, Ron holding Hermione's hand while his other arm lay around Ginny's shoulders. They entered a common room that was almost silent, the sight of Harry Potter having been beaten so shocking to so many of the Gryffindors that it seemed too hard for many of them to believe.

Ginny hissed, the first real noise she'd made since seeing Harry in Ron's arms hours before.

"Why are you all sitting around like this?" she asked in a low voice, which nonetheless seemed to carry right to the edges of the common room. "It's Halloween! Harry will be okay, he's had some bad news and shouldn't have tried to go after a Boggart on his own. But that's Harry for you. He never takes the easy way if he can save other people any trouble by taking the hard way. He'll be okay, and when he's out of the hospital wing I'm going to kill him. But first I'll torture him by telling him what a great party he missed tonight. Now, where were we?"

Ginny moved into the centre of the room, to the untouched table of food that the Gryffindors hadn't been able to bring themselves to try. She picked up a platter of pumpkin pasties, made her way to a group of her fellow fifth years and began handing them around. Hermione and Ron followed her lead and soon several people were helping to serve the food. 

Bit by bit, the noise level in the common room began to creep up, and soon a fully fledged Halloween party was taking place. Someone produced a wizarding radio, and soon everyone was dancing. Only two of the party goers noticed the small, forlorn looking red haired girl making her way slowly away from all the noise and up the stairs to her dormitory.

"I'm going to kill Harry when he wakes up," Ron said. "He can't keep doing this to her. He needs to think about other people."

"Ron, you know as well as I do that Harry hardly _stops_ thinking of other people. He probably went after the Boggart today so that you wouldn't have to."

Ron scowled, but nodded. "Yeah, okay, you're right. But it's tearing Ginny apart to see him like this. Do you think she'll be concentrating in classes tomorrow?"

"Probably not," Hermione said. "But what are we supposed to do?"

"Talk to him," Ron sighed. "Continue the impossible attempt to make Harry open up to us. Try and get him to actually think before he acts for a change."

"We never get anything easy to do, do we?" Hermione asked, resting her head on Ron's shoulder.

"I suppose it's what we get for being Harry's best friends," Ron said, tightening his arm around her.

"Would you have it any other way?" she asked.

"Not on your life, he said forcefully.

*

The next few days were grim. Ron, Hermione and Professor Skeeter held a meeting of the Duelling Club on the following Tuesday, but only a few people showed up. Those who weren't discussing Harry, who was still unconscious in the hospital wing, were discussing that weekend's Quidditch match. Ravenclaw were playing Hufflepuff, and the students of both houses were hard to distract from discussions of their respective chances.

At dinner on Friday, Cho stopped by the Gryffindor table to ask after Harry.

"There's no change," Hermione said. "He's not responding to anything."

"What does Professor Dumbledore say?" Cho asked.

Ron looked at her in surprise. "He hasn't said anything, has he? He's been away since Halloween."

"Has he?" Cho asked in surprise. "Honestly, you'd think someone would have said something. I've been at Quidditch practise most of the time. This is the first time I've had a meal at a normal time almost all week. Where's he gone?"

"Don't know," Ron said shortly. It was true. Professor McGonagall had told them that there hadn't been any change in Sirius' condition. From this they had deduced that Dumbledore had seen Sirius and arranged for his safe treatment. Beyond this, however, they had no idea why the Headmaster had been away from Hogwarts for so long.

"Well, whatever he's doing, I'm sure that it's for the best."

"You think so?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely," Cho said firmly. "Harry trusts Dumbledore unquestioningly. That's good enough for me."

*

"Erm, Ginny?" 

Ginny raised her attention from Harry's still features to look at Cho.

"If I'm interrupting. . ." the Ravenclaw said, looking uncomfortable.

"No, it's okay," Ginny said quietly. "He's not very stimulating conversation right now."

Cho looked at the younger girl in sympathy.

"I wish I could say something to make it better," she said.

Ginny smiled. "Thank you. Everyone else says how strong Harry is, how this is nothing compared to fighting You-Know-Who, that sort of thing."

"Not what you want to hear," Cho said, nodding. "You know all that already. How about: _You'll_ get through this. Because, well, you will. It's hard, but Harry will come back to you, and you'll want to kill him for getting hurt, but that second when he opens his eyes will be worth all the trouble he's caused."

Ginny smiled slightly. "Nothing can be worth all this much trouble." 

Cho grinned.

"Do you want to sit down?" Ginny asked, pointing to an empty chair. "I've been trying to concentrate on my Muggle Studies work, but it's not really happening with Harry there. I'm looking up every two seconds to see if he's moved, and. . ."

Cho smiled sympathetically.

"I know what you mean. When Cedric, well, last summer I kept sitting by the window, waiting for an owl from him, or his parents, anything to say that it was all a big misunderstanding. . ." she tailed off.

"I wanted to apologise," she said after a long moment of silence.

"For what?" Ginny asked.

"Last summer, and parts of last year, there were times when I wanted, when I wished that. . ."

She swallowed, and rubbed at her eyes with the ball of her hand.

"I wished that it had been Harry who was killed instead of Cedric," she admitted. "And when I saw him last year, I wished that he'd suffer for surviving. It's stupid, isn't it? I realised it wasn't his fault, and that I couldn't want him to come to harm, and yet he always does."

Ginny sat quietly by as Cho stared moodily at Harry's still form.

"I really don't want any harm to come to Harry," she said at last. "I want him well and strong, so he can play his part in taking down You-Know-Who."

Ginny paled at the thought of Harry facing Voldemort. "He takes it all too seriously," she said. "He's ready to take the burden all by himself, and that's why he gets hurt."

Cho nodded understandingly. "I told him he should trust others to handle some of the things he tries to do alone. It seems I didn't get through to him."

"He's too stubborn," Ginny said, laying her hand on Harry's. "He should have known better than to go after a Boggart on his own, it doesn't matter how good he is. He wasn't in any fit state to tackle it."

"Do you know why he couldn't fight it?"

"We think it was because he had some bad news. His godfather was taken ill."

"It's never easy for him, is it?"

"No. But he'd probably find some way to make his life difficult even if everything was going smoothly."

Cho laughed. "That does sound about right. I'll leave you to it. I hope he wakes up soon. It'd be good if he could be at the match tomorrow."

"Even if he woke up, he probably wouldn't be allowed out. I hope it's a good match, though. Harry always enjoys it when Ravenclaw play Hufflepuff."

"The one match where he doesn't have to care who wins," Cho laughed.

Ginny smiled.

"Would it be okay if I came back after the match tomorrow? I could give Harry a replay of the match."

"I know he'd like that," Ginny smiled. "And Cho?"

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't feel bad about what you were thinking. I know that if Harry were. . . If I lost him, then I don't know what I'd do, or how I'd feel, but I know I wouldn't be thinking straight."

Cho smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be here," Ginny replied. "Waiting, worrying, making Harry wish I'd give up and let him enjoy some peace and quiet for a change. I'm sure by now that he wishes I'd just leave him alone."

She turned back to Harry and her Muggle Studies work, leaving Cho to make her way back to her dormitory.

__

I doubt it, she thought as she headed for the Ravenclaw common room. _I doubt that very much_.

*

Saturday morning came, and but for a few people trying to concentrate on their homework, the entire school was abuzz with talk of Quaffles and Bludgers, Snitches and line-ups. The two house teams were greeted with great roars as they entered the Great Hall for a breakfast that few of them would enjoy.

In the hospital wing, Hermione tutted at the noise. Ron grinned at the top of her head as she refocused herself on her Dark Arts essay.

"Excuse me? I'm frightfully sorry to interrupt."

Gilderoy Lockhart stood in the doorway a bulky package under his arm. It was Ron's turn to tut, and Hermione's turn to throw an amused glance at him. Ginny smiled at the two of them.

"The captains of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff house teams came to me with a most unusual request this morning," Lockhart said as he came in. "They had worked out that I had some method of communicating with the Ministry in order that I could keep them updated on my progress in my task. They wished to borrow it so that young Harry here might hear today's match. Well, of course, I shouldn't really let this out of my sight, but as I myself will be at the match, and as my assistants have gone home for the weekend, I shouldn't think that anyone will mind, hmmm?"

He set the package on the bedside cabinet and removed its wrappings.

"Et voila," he beamed.

The three students looked at the object. It was a small rectangle of quartz, barely six inches by three.

"Err. . ." Ron said.

"Is that a Sound Stone?" Hermione asked.

"Very good Miss Granger!" Lockhart seemed delighted. "_I _didn't know what it was when I first saw it."

"Sound Stones have been around since Merlin's time," Hermione explained to Ron and Ginny. "They can be used to transmit and receive sound from great distances, like a sort of radio. They're incredibly hard to make, and very rare and expensive."

"Rather surprising the Ministry would let me have this one, really," Lockhart said. "I suppose this mission of mine is rather important. I'm told that Minister Fudge is taking a close personal interest, even. Anyway, I'd better get to the match. I'll cast the spell to send the sound when I get there. I've become rather adept at it."

Lockhart took his leave with a flamboyant sweep of his cloak. Ron stared after him until he'd disappeared from view.

"I'm ready to name my first son Gilderoy," he said in a reverent voice.

Ginny grinned, but said nothing. 

Hermione looked at the Sound Stone curiously.

"Why on earth would the Ministry give something so valuable to Lockhart?" she asked.

"Well, you heard him," Ginny said. "It's an important mission he's been given."

"Why him, then?" Hermione asked. "If the mission is so important that they need to be in contact at all times, and if Fudge really is taking an interest, then why on Earth was it given to Lockhart?"

"Hermione, you're paranoid," Ron said as he pushed his Herbology essay away and sat back in his chair. "I expect Fudge's mum is a big Lockhart fan or something. Who cares? We can listen to the match. Much better than Herbology."

"But don't you think it's strange that-" Hermione was cut off by Ron's abrupt shake of his head.

"Hermione, I've seen flying keys and giant three headed dogs. I've watched toilets turn into giant holes in the ground. I've seen grown men turn into dogs, rats and wolves. _Nothing_ is strange anymore.

"However, I've also learnt that you're right about this sort of thing pretty often, so if you'll let me enjoy the match in peace, I'll hear you out, okay?"

Hermione was only partly mollified by this, but she knew that Ron, to his mind, had reached a fair compromise, and it would be more trouble than it was worth to argue him down. Besides, she did want to know how the match turned out, and the thoughtful actions of Justin Finch-Fletchley and Cho, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw captains, had at least as good a chance of waking Harry as anything they'd tried. She turned back to her Herbology essay, at least until Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her onto Harry's bed.

"It's starting, listen!" he said. He cocked his head towards the window, and Hermione strained her hearing. She could just make out the faint sounds of the roaring crowd from the other side of the school.

"AND WELCOME TO THE SECOND GAME OF THE SEASON!" the Sound Stone suddenly roared. Ron jumped and fell off the bed, but Hermione, who had half been expecting this, lowered the volume of Lee's commentary with a quick "_Quietus!_"

"Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw," Lee continued, his voice projected clear as a bell from the Sound Stone. Ron clambered back up onto the bed, his eyes shining.

"Imagine if we could stick this in our classes. We could listen from bed. Oh, just imagine how great it would be to get out of Potions," he said longingly.

"Ron, either listen to the match, or talk about work, but you can't do both," Hermione said. Ron shut up immediately, and settled on the edge of Harry's bed, as close to the Sound Stone as he could get without perching on Harry's bedside table.

"And it's a fast kick off as the Bludgers and Snitch go soaring. The Quaffle is hoisted into the air today by our referee, the astronomical Professor Sinistra, and the game is on. Immediately Hufflepuff Chaser Susan Bones takes the Quaffle, and she's away. Susan Bones, the only player other than Harry Potter to be flying a Firebolt this year -get well soon Harry, if you can hear me - and Bones puts it cleanly past Turpin in the Ravenclaw goal. What a start by Hufflepuff! They lead by ten points to nil."

Ron had Harry's sheets twisted in his fingers already. Hermione was amazed that he could get so worked up about a match that logically he shouldn't have cared about, but put it down to his passionate nature.

"And the Hufflepuff Chasers are running the game so far," Lee reported. "Passing the ball fluidly and easily, the Ravenclaw Beaters, Quirke and Goldstein, are being left looking thoroughly outclassed. This isn't the even match that was played out last year. Only Lisa Turpin in the Ravenclaw goal has stopped Hufflepuff getting a sackful."

With ten minutes gone, it was thirty-nil to Hufflepuff, and the avalanche of shots that the Hufflepuff Chasers were raining down on Lisa Turpin was overwhelming.

"Hufflepuff captain Justin Finch Fletchley has put together a very impressive side," Lee said. "The only side without a seventh year among their first team ranks, for the record. But wait, Ravenclaw have a break!

"And it's Ackerley, his first match for the team, and he nips neatly under a Bludger from Hannah Abbott and passes easily to Su Li, who flicks it on to Terry Boot and it's a goal! Hufflepuff Keeper Elenor Branstone was well beaten there. Ravenclaw get ten points!"

The game raged back and forth, Ravenclaw finding a rhythm of their own once the first goal went in. Hufflepuff stayed ahead by the skin of their teeth, but it was close, very close.

"Magnificent Bludger work there by McMillan of Hufflepuff. A very talented young player there, a possible pro, you might think. Anyway good beating, and the Bludger nearly takes off Boot's head, need to wake up there lad, just because you don't have the Quaffle doesn't mean you're immune. Katie Bell would never lose track of a Bludger that w-"

"JORDAN!"

"And back to the match. Seventy-sixty to Hufflepuff now, and Ravenclaw have a break. Ackerley to Li, to Boot, back to Li, Boot, Ackerley, great move this, Li, Ackerley, Boot-"

Hannah Abbott clubbed a Bludger from five feet away, and it slammed into Terry Boot at top speed. Boot cried out, and the Quaffle flew from his grasp. He slumped over his broom, which automatically slowed, coming to a halt without throwing its rider and beginning a slow descent to the ground. Professor Sinistra blew her whistle, and the match paused.

"Time out, time out, Ravenclaw injury. Boot's favouring his side, looks like bruised ribs, maybe cracked. Enthusiastic beating from Abbott of Hufflepuff. Boot looks thoroughly miserable at having to come off. Substitute Chaser Michael Corner is ready on the touchline, and he will be flying a Nimbus 2000, along with team-mates Goldstein and Quirke, and Hufflepuff's McMillan. Susan Bones, I should say, is still on her Firebolt-"

"JORDAN!"

"-and Michael Corner is up and flying. The teams line up for the restart, and Corner takes his place just below Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang. The two were reportedly a hot couple at the start of term, although my sources in the Ravenclaw common room say that there may well be trouble in paradise-"

"JORDAN!!"

"-not that I'm suggesting anything, but you'll notice Corner's only a reserve while his girlfriend is captain. Anyone think she's trying to tell him something?"

"JORDAN!! I'm warning you!"

"Just my little joke, folks. Seriously, kids, good luck with the relationship thing. I know it can't be easy for you, Michael, with the whole jealousy thi-"

"JORDAN!!! ONE MORE WORD!!!"

"What's Lee up to?" Ginny asked. "He doesn't normally do that sort of thing."

Hermione stared at Ron, who was watching the Sound Stone intently. A little too intently. He was perched on the edge of the bed and seemed to be ready to run at a moment's notice.

"Ron?" she asked. He winced.

"I told them it was a bad idea," he said.

"Who?"

"Fred and George, who else? They asked Lee to make fun of Corner if he got to play this year."

"Why?" Ginny asked. Ron looked at his sister with a hint of panic about him.

"Because he didn't treat you very well when you dumped him," Ron admitted. To his surprise, Ginny giggled.

"I know that it shouldn't be funny," she said. "And I know that I always say that I hate my brothers fighting my battles for me, but. . . It _is_ pretty funny. I'll have to talk to Michael and Cho later and apologise, though. Especially after what Dean and Seamus did to Michael last week."

Ron looked relieved to not have been the target of Ginny's temper. He slumped back on the bed and returned his attention to the match.

"What did they do to him?" Hermione asked, glancing up from her work.

"They set a Birthday Bomb to go off in his bag during his History of Magic class," Ginny shrugged. "I mean, Professor Binns didn't notice, but it burnt half his notes."

Ron grinned at the Sound Stone, but didn't say anything.

"Hufflepuff lead by eighty points to sixty, and the game is incredibly close. Plenty of goals, though, as we approach the hour mark."

"An hour already? Blimey, time _does_ fly when you're having fun," Ron said. Hermione threw a pillow at him.

"Great shot from Bones for Hufflepuff, and an amazing save from Turpin in the Ravenclaw goal. The Quaffle breaks and it's with Corner -I wasn't serious earlier, of course- Corner passes to Li, who sends it forward to Boot. Boot soaring high, avoiding those Bludgers with ease. Great flying from Boot- 

"Magnificent pass! Boot releases the Quaffle from what must be three hundred feet up, and Su Li comes through and claims it before Hufflepuff can even blink. Li through on goal, she shoots. . . What a goal! The Ravenclaw team reduce Hufflepuff's lead to just ten- There's the Snitch!"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny leant forward instinctively. So entranced were they by the match that they didn't notice Harry's hands clenching slightly.

"Chang and Finch-Fletchley, the two team captains locked together as they streak after the Snitch. Both flying Nimbus 2001s, of course, and very evenly matched. The Snitch is just out of reach, it's almost teasing them.

"Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff reaches forward. His fingers are just inches from the Snitch, Chang looks beaten-"

So much of Harry's sheet was screwed up in Ron's hands now that Harry was entirely bare chested. His eyelids fluttered slightly.

"-but he's overbalanced! Finch-Fletchley's reach exceeds his grasp and now he's struggling to just stay on his broom. Cho Chang is clear, squeezing a last burst of speed from the broom. . . And she's done it! Ravenclaw win, Cho Chang gets the Snitch, Ravenclaw win!"

"Cho?"

Hermione, Ron and Ginny blinked, uncertain for a second exactly whose weak, croaky voice they had heard. They looked around, and saw Harry blinking feebly in the sun streaming through the hospital wing's high windows.

"Harry!" Ginny threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and babbling wildly as she tried to express how badly she'd missed them over the last few days. He smiled weakly but didn't move, and it struck Hermione how gaunt he looked.

"Miss Weasley!"

Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office, glaring daggers at Ginny, who reluctantly released her hold on Harry and allowed the school nurse to examine him. Madam Pomfrey looked deeply troubled by the results of her checkup.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. Madame Pomfrey looked up at her, but said nothing.

"Poppy, is it as we suspected?"

The three students turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway. Hermione was struck once more by the Headmaster's expression. He had only been away for a few days, but he appeared every bit as gaunt and worn down as Harry was.

"It is, Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey said solemnly.

"What's wrong?" Harry croaked. "What happened to me?"

"Harry, you faced a Boggart, am I correct?"

"Yeah," Harry said guardedly. "I mean, I guess so. I went into the staff room, but I don't remember anything after that."

A little colour returned to Harry's cheeks. Hermione wondered if Harry knew that they could tell that he was lying.

"I see," Dumbledore allowed the lie to pass. "Well, Mr. Weasley here found you unconscious in the staff room. You have been here for several days. It is now Saturday afternoon."

"I. . . see," Harry rasped. "But why do I feel so weak? I mean, I've been in here before, I normally can't wait to get out of here. Now all I want to do is sleep for the next week."

"I had an idea about that, and Madam Pomfrey happens to agree with me," Dumbledore said. "Harry, I'm afraid there's no easy way to say this, but it appears to myself and Madam Pomfrey that you have burnt out your ability to use magic."

There was a silence that held for several seconds, before Ron snorted.

"You're joking, right?"

"Would that I were, Mr. Weasley, would that I were," Dumbledore said gravely. "The body of any human, including Harry, can only expend a finite amount of energy at one time. In wizards, this energy can be used to cast magic, harnessing the magical fields around us. Harry utilised all of his energy in one go, leaving him drained of all but the bare minimum required to sustain life, perhaps even a little less than that, as he has spent the last four days in a coma. It appears that there was an explosive release of energy, which is what caused the damage to the staff room furniture, and drained Harry here. For now, at least, Harry is something of an empty bottle."

"So, how do I get it back?" Harry asked, his voice rasping in his throat.

"Simply by living, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Think of it as a cut. First it must scab over, then gradually the scab will disappear and you will have fresh skin there once more. It is part of recovering from injury, part of just being alive. In a few weeks you will be back to normal."

"A few weeks!" Harry tried to sit up, but slumped back on his bed after a few agonising seconds. "But-"

"This not open to argument, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey snapped. "You've been here far too many times. I see more of you than any five other people, and I see too much of them. You will listen to Professor Dumbledore and you will get well, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry rasped meekly.

"An excellent choice," Professor Dumbledore said happily as Madam Pomfrey stalked off to prepare one of her vile but undeniably effective potions. "By the way, I saw Remus this morning. He says that Sirius has not grown any worse. The doctors assure me that this is as much as can be hoped for."

"Didn't anyone recognise him?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"What?" Harry croaked at the same time, his voice drowned out by Hermione's.

"Well, it certainly helps that the head doctor at St Mungo's is an old friend," Dumbledore said. "But Sirius is rather different in appearance then when he escaped Azkaban. His hair is now a strawberry blonde colour for example."

Ron let out a great laugh at the idea of a blonde Sirius. This, too, masked an attempt by Harry to get attention.

"Oh, I wish I could see him," Ron laughed. "Sirius? Blonde? How long is it?"

"Hey!"

"I believe it is quite short, no longer than Harry's. Of course, he is in an isolation ward, so he may decide to experiment to amuse himself. Yes, Harry?"

"Why," Harry asked slowly, "is Sirius in an isolation ward," his voice rasped heavily on the last two words, "at St Mungo's."

"You don't know?" Dumbledore asked, all trace of levity disappearing from his face at once.

"No," Harry rasped. "The last thing I heard from them was some stupid letter," he paused to take a sip of water, "that Remus sent me about, well, it doesn't matter. Why is Sirius in hospital?"

"They were attacked," Dumbledore said heavily. "Death Eaters caught them spying on a meeting place. Sirius was hit with a poisonous spell, and he's been placed in isolation so that doctors can monitor him without putting him or anyone else at risk."

"Why did you think I knew that?" Harry asked incredulously. "How could I know that?"

"There was a letter in your pocket," Hermione said. "From Remus, it was all screwed up."

Harry's eyes widened in horror.

"I. . . I thought it was another joke letter," he rasped. "Hedwig brought it just before I went down to tackle the Boggart. I was going to read it that night. You mean it told me that Sirius had been injured? I should be there."

He pushed himself upright, and managed to twist so that his feet were on the floor.

"Harry," Ron began, starting forward.

"Don't," Harry snarled. As much as anything, Ron was stopped by the venom in his voice. "Sirius must think I don't care."

"Sirius is well aware that you have been unwell yourself," Dumbledore said mildly. "He would not want you to make yourself worse."

"Sirius would have done the same at my age," Harry said.

"Yes, he would have done, but he is now nearly rather older and knows better than to let sixteen year old wizards run around the countryside without any help, especially when they're too ill to stand upright."

"I can stand," Harry said, putting his feet on the floor. "You can't stop me seeing Sirius."

"If I thought it would do either of you any good, then I would be assisting you," Dumbledore said mildly. "As it is, I don't think you appreciate just how very ill you have been."

Hermione, Ron and Ginny watched as Harry and Dumbledore locked gazes. They had never seen anyone defy Dumbledore this way before. Certainly they never would have imagined Harry would be the one to defy him. While Harry could be as stubborn as anyone, he would never normally consider going against Dumbledore's wishes.

"I can stand," Harry said. "And if I can stand, I can walk, and if I can walk, then I can make it to the broom shed and get my broom."

"And then what?" Dumbledore asked "Do you know where St Mungo's is?"

"I know where Diagon Alley is," Harry said. "Someone there will tell me how to get to the hospital."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a second, and then nodded.

"I can see that you are not to be shaken," he said. Hermione couldn't decide whether the emotion evident in his voice was disappointment, anger, or just frustration. "Very well. If you can stand, without support, then I shall personally accompany you to St. Mungo's."

Harry looked mildly surprised that Dumbledore had given in so easily, but seemingly decided not to waste any time. He pushed himself upright, and for a second Hermione thought that Dumbledore had been wrong, that Harry was fine.

But then Harry's knees started to shake, and then buckle, and he pitched forwards onto the floor. Under any other circumstances it might have seemed comical, but Hermione knew that nothing could make her laugh at that moment.

Ron stepped forwards to help Harry up. Hermione glanced at Ginny, and saw that the younger girl had her hands over mouth. Tears were streaming silently down her cheeks. Hermione slipped an arm around her shoulders, and then jumped.

"GET OFF ME!!" Harry yelled. Ron stepped back quickly, as though he'd been shocked with electricity. Harry lay sprawled on the floor, his face flushed red, panting heavily. Ginny pulled out of Hermione's grasp and moved forward to help.

"Leave me alone," Harry snarled, before she could take two steps. "Get away from me, okay? Get away from me."

Ginny stopped, not sure what to do. Dumbledore stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Come now," he said. "Let's give Harry some time alone. He needs time to take everything in. You can come and see him later."

Ginny hesitated, her eyes on the floor, but after a long moment, she nodded. She raised her head so that she could look Harry in the eye.

"We'll be back later, Harry," she said, and Hermione was impressed at how level her voice was. "We'll help you get caught up with your work."

She collected her books, and strode out of the hospital wing. Ron looked after her, obviously confused, and torn between his sister and his friend. But he collected his and Hermione's things, and followed Ginny out of the door. Hermione lingered behind, unsure as to why.

"You heard me," Harry repeated, his voice rasping again. "Leave me alone."

"Let's do as he suggests, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said quietly.

Hermione felt terrible leaving Harry on the floor. She tried to gauge the expression on his face as he ordered her away, but couldn't. She'd never seen the expression on Harry before, but it seemed hauntingly familiar.

She joined Ron and Ginny outside, worrying at the problem the entire time. She barely heard what Dumbledore said to them -something about Harry needing time to adjust- before he went back inside to talk to Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione followed Ginny and Ron back up to Gryffindor Tower. They passed Lisa Turpin, Terry Boot and Draco along the way, and the two groups nodded absently to one another. Ron stiffened slightly at the sight of Malfoy, but said nothing. The Ravenclaws seemed preoccupied with the food and drink they were struggling to keep hold of. Apparently there would be a grand party in their common room today.

__

There should be one in our common room, Hermione thought. _Harry's out of his coma. We should be celebrating._

They stopped in front of the Fat Lady. Ron gave the password ("By Royal appointment") and they went inside.

The portrait swung closed behind them, leaving them in a very quiet common room. There was hardly anyone there, and Hermione vaguely remembered Seamus saying something about an additional fencing class in the Great Hall that afternoon. She supposed it would probably just be Gryffindors and Slytherins. Certainly there wouldn't be many Ravencl-

Malfoy.

Hermione stopped in the middle of the common room floor, one hand at her mouth as it dawned on her who Harry had looked like. It was uncanny, and only their completely different appearances had stopped her seeing it before. Harry had looked just like Malfoy did when he called her a Mudblood for the first time, five years before. 

__

The hatred, no, loathing_ on his face. The tone of voice, the way he looked at me, as though he couldn't stand to be near me. _

I must be wrong. I can't have seen it properly. Harry doesn't have that kind of hate in him, does he?

Hermione shivered, and hugged her arms. She looked at Ron and Ginny, who had taken seats by the fire and were listlessly sorting through their books.

__

I must be wrong. I'm not going to say anything.

I must be wrong.

To be continued. . .

****

Sherbert79: Lots more swordfighting to come

****

Rhinemir, Frantic and Eric2: Well, what's a story without a cliffhanger? Be honest, I'm not _that_ bad, am I? Go read Cygnus Crux's works for real cliffhangers. I do the odd one, but hey… Author's prerogative ;-)


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Harry vs Hermione

**__**

Chapter Seventeen: Harry vs. Hermione

The next few days were some of the longest of Hermione's life. She spent the rest of that Saturday sitting with Ginny and Ron, for once unable to focus completely on her work. Her mind kept flashing back to the image of Harry, lying angry and defiant on the floor of the hospital wing. Each time she shivered, until Ron got up and put more logs on the fire. She gave him a small smile as he sat back down, but he was looking instead at Ginny, who in turn was staring blankly into the fire.

"Ginny, Harry will be fine. He was hurt worse in the first year, and he's a lot tougher now," he said.

Ginny blinked, and turned to look at her brother. "Sorry, Ron, were you talking to me?"

Ron shook his head, a little sadly. "No, just thinking aloud," he said. "Can I get you anything? Food, drink, anything?"

"No," she said vaguely. "I'm alright."

Hermione's heart ached as she watched her friend suffering. She looked at her watch. It had been over three hours since they had left the hospital wing.

__

How much time is Harry going to need? Ginny needs to be with him so badly. Does Harry even know how much she cares for him?

She stood abruptly. "I'm going back to see Harry," she said. "I'm not going to just wait here. Harry needs his friends around him. Even if he's trying to push us away, that doesn't mean we should let him.

Ron grinned tightly, and nodded. Ginny managed a small smile. The three of them made their way back to the hospital wing.

To their surprise, Harry seemed quite happy to have visitors.

To their greater surprise, he already had one.

Cho was sat on the end of Harry's bed, the two of them caught up in a complex discussion of Quidditch, and Cho's performance in the match just completed. Ron coughed just loudly enough to announce their presence, and both looked up in slight surprise. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence.

"I should be off," Cho said, standing up. "I'm glad you're awake now."

Harry stretched and yawned. "I almost wish I weren't."

"See you later," she smiled.

"Bye Cho," he said. "Thanks again for the sound stone. I really think it helped."

"I'll tell Justin when I see him," she said, and walked off. "Hi," she smiled at the others. They nodded in return.

"Well, you're a lot happier now," Ron said as they sat around Harry's bed. Hermione noticed that Ginny was holding back from any overt sign of emotion, and felt slightly saddened by this.

"I s'pose," Harry said. "Sorry about before. I know I acted like an idiot."

"We just want to help," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I told you I'd help you with that Boggart," Ron said. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Thought I could take on a Dementor by myself," Harry said, tiredly. "Got that a bit wrong. Listen, I don't want to be rude, but I'm really tired. Would you mind if I got some more sleep?"

"Of course not," Ginny said. "Shall I stay here?"

"No," Harry said shortly. "Head back with Ron and Hermione. I. . . I'll probably just sleep through until tomorrow morning now, anyway."

"Oh, okay," Ginny said, looking even more put out. "I'll come by tomorrow?"

"That'd be good," Harry said.

But he didn't look at her as he said it.

*

Ginny disappeared straight up to her dormitory as soon as the Fat Lady's portrait swung closed behind them. Ron looked after her in concern, and would have followed her if Hermione had not laid a hand on his arm.

"Don't, Ron," she said. "Besides, you can't, remember?"

Ron smiled weakly as he remembered the sirens and wildly flickering torches that had greeted Seamus' attempt to visit Lavender in her dormitory late one evening the previous year.

"Yeah, I keep forgetting that," he said. "One of these days, I'll find a way past that charm."

"And just what are you planning on doing when you get past?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied, airily. "Just be incredibly smug that I beat McGonagall's spell."

They shared a smile, before their expressions turned serious again. They sat down on the sofa, and Hermione curled up against Ron.

"Harry's not well, is he?" Ron asked.

"He's gone through a lot in the last few days," Hermione said. "In the hospital wing twice, then meeting the Dementor, plus finding out about Sirius. It's bound to have an effect on him."

"Yeah, but he seemed happy enough to see Cho, didn't he?" Ron said. "And I reckon Ginny noticed that, too."

"She probably just tired him out," Hermione said. "It looked like a very lively conversation they were having. And you know what Harry's like about Quidditch. He wouldn't have thought about his health once he got caught up in hearing about the match."

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said. "Harry's not daft enough to deliberately hurt Ginny. Not after all the fuss we made about them getting together."

"Has Harry forgiven your family yet?"

"No. He says he won't until he gets a decent chance for some revenge."

"Harry taking revenge? He doesn't have it in him."

"You reckon?" Ron laughed. "Do you remember what he did to their brooms last year? And you've never been at the Burrow over the summer, have you? Harry goes mad at Fred and George. You should have seen what he did when they spoiled a picnic he put together for Ginny one day."

"What did he do?"

"Well, he couldn't use magic, right? Instead, he got some itching powder, got into their room-"

"Oh no," Hermione grinned.

"-how he got past their guards I'll never know- and coated their beds, their shirts and their, well, their, er. . ."

"Underpants?" Hermione giggled. Ron's ears went pink, but he nodded.

"They went mad before they could clean it all up. And then they found out what it was he'd done to their Wheezes ingredients. . ." he tailed off.

"Oh no. Do I want to know?"

"Well, you know what happened when we chucked that firework into the Swelling Solution?"

"Oh no. Really?"

Ron nodded, his face struggling under the twin weight of sympathy and amusement.

"That _sort_ of thing. It was a pretty big bang, too. Of course, we're used to hearing explosions from their room, so no one mentioned it until dinner when they didn't come down."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's really, really hard to reach the doorknob when you're eight inches tall," Ron said. 

Hermione laughed.

"Harry got into quite a bit of trouble over that," Ron admitted. "But Mum wouldn't turn the twins back to their right size until bedtime, so it all turned out okay."

"And the twins stopped trying to get Harry?"

Ron grinned. "No way, they just upped the stakes after that. They had a proper little war going on, and of course Ginny joined in on Harry's side, but Mum stopped it after a while."

"How come?"

"Dad walked in on one of the tricks Harry had left."

"Oh no."

"It wasn't a bad one, but he had his dress robes on."

"Oh no."

"Yeah. Mum wasn't pleased."

"Oh dear."

"They were washing dishes, by hand, for the rest of the holidays after that."

"Well, they sound like they deserved it," Hermione said piously.

"Oh, they did. Why do you think I didn't get involved?"

Hermione smiled, and curled up tighter under Ron's arm.

"Harry will be alright, won't he?"

"'Course he will," Ron said. "I mean, it's_ Harry_. What could some stupid Dementor do to him?"

*

Saturday passed into Sunday. Ginny came down from her dormitory just before teatime on Saturday to have one more try at visiting Harry, but she returned quietly, telling Ron and Hermione that he had been in a deep sleep.

Sunday dawned, just about. A grey day, it matched their moods as they made their way down to the hospital again. Harry was lying on his bed, and didn't seem to have moved since the previous day.

"He was just like this last night," Ginny said. "How bad is he?"

Hermione and Ron shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't something they had ever discussed, even briefly, but they were well aware of it nonetheless.

Harry was a very powerful wizard. Deep down they suspected that he was capable of things they couldn't imagine, things they'd never be able to achieve. He had a lot of power.

So for Harry to have had that power depleted so completely would be devastating to him, far more so than it would be for almost anyone else.

Trading a glance, they knew without speaking that Ginny didn't see it that way. To her, Harry was Harry first, and anything else was a distant second.

__

That's why she's so good for him, Hermione knew. _Even Ron and I know that there's something different about Harry. We try not to treat him any different, but sometimes it's difficult._

Hermione felt guilty about it at times, especially when Harry caught her and Ron acting differently around him. Looking at Harry now, lying listlessly on his bed, it was hard to imagine him as he normally was; Vital, and full of life.

For Ginny, though, it was as if nothing had changed. She pushed through the doors and strode up to Harry's bed. Ron and Hermione followed at a discreet distance, letting Harry and Ginny have a moment alone.

"Alright Harry? Should we bother sitting down, or are you going to kick us out again?"

"Ron!" Ginny said.

Harry smiled wearily. "You can sit. I won't kick you out. I can't promise I'll be very good company, though. I just don't seem to be able to go more than thirty minutes without falling asleep."

"Well, you were knackered before you got knocked out," Ron grinned. "And knowing you, there's plenty more sleepless nights to come. Your body's probably just taking the chance to get a bit of sleep for a change, mate."

Harry smiled, but Hermione could see that he'd been telling the truth. His eyelids hung heavily over his eyes, and his head was drooping noticeably lower as she watched.

"We won't stay for long anyway," she said briskly. "We just wanted to say that we'll make sure to take lots of notes in classes while you're in here. You already have a lot to catch up on."

Tired as he was, Harry managed to look faintly alarmed.

"Er, I don't think there's much chance of me doing much work like this, Hermione. I can't even use a wand."

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said. "You can still learn the theory. We'll come in tomorrow evening."

Harry looked alarmingly sleepy now, so much so that even Ginny didn't object to their short visit. The three of them took their leave, and Harry was left alone again.

He watched the doors for a long time, before muttering "Damn."

*

Sunday passed into Monday. No one seemed to know how long Harry would be in the hospital wing. Throughout Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, Ron found himself snatching glances at the students who were a partner short, wondering whether Harry would have enjoyed the lessons. He took exceedingly detailed notes in both classes. Hermione smiled to herself when she noticed.

Monday evening came and went. Harry had been right the day before, there didn't seem much point in his studying when he was so weak. Without magic, nothing seemed to go right, and when Hermione told him that they would keep practising "Because it's still important to learn the theory" his shoulders slumped. Hermione didn't seem to notice.

The week carried on. Hermione and Ron worked as hard as possible in their lessons, and even Ginny perked up when Harry's wand spat out a single spark on Thursday night.

On Friday night, however, everything fell apart.

Harry had been irritable and snappish all evening. Now that he was able to stay awake for several hours at a time, he resented being kept in the hospital wing all the time. He was also coming to resent the way the others were treating him.

"Hermione, I get it, okay?" he snapped as she went through a Potions ingredients list for the fourth time. "Just shut up, will you?"

Hermione, Ron and Ginny looked at him with slight expressions of shock. Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry raised his hand to stop her.

"Yeah, I know, you're just trying to help. And I should be grateful, I suppose? Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not. In fact, if I had any magic in me, I'd hit you with a Silencing Charm just to get you to shut up. Really, Hermione, I'm sick of hearing you going on and on, like you're perfect. Well you're not, right?"

"I, I never said-" Hermione tried to say, but Harry cut across her.

"If you were perfect," Harry went on, glaring at them all, "you wouldn't keep on trying to make the house elves do something they don't want to. Did you know that Dobby's got to do the work of four elves because none of them want to come up to the tower? I bet it never crossed that over-full mind of yours that you're doing more harm than good, did it?"

Hermione's lip quivered, but her eyes narrowed.

"And I suppose you know all about elf rights, do you?" she asked.

"I don't need to. If something I was doing was making people miserable, I'd stop doing it."

"Really? What about all the times you've hurt people, Harry? All the times you've ignored Colin Creevey, or Ginny, or-"

"That's hardly the same thing," Harry sneered. "I was trying not to encourage them to act stupidly, you're trying to get the elves to rebel. I looked up some stuff about the elves, Hermione. They're treated a damn sight better here than anywhere else. It's like trying to convince Death Eaters to start making daisy chains. It's not going to happen, and you're just getting in the way of other people with more important things to do."

"And you have more important things to do, do you?" asked Hermione, her voice so cold that Ron shivered.

"Yeah, I do, as it happens. Everyone seems to think that I'm the one who's going to stop Voldemort, I'm the one who's going to duel with the Death Eaters, I'm going to stop everyone from stubbing their toes. . . If I'm going to do that, I don't have time to go chasing after house elves."

"So tell them to talk to me!" Hermione said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what I _want_ them to do."

"They don't want to talk to you!" Harry roared. "You embarrass them, you're making Dobby's life miserable, and if there is an elf revolution, it won't be because of you, it will be _against_ you."

Ron and Ginny's heads were flicking back and forth, following the argument like a tennis match. Ginny had gone very pale, shocked by the way Harry had lost his temper so completely. Ron, more used to Harry's occasional flare ups, was turning a deep red as he watched Hermione growing angrier.

"At least I'm trying to make people's lives better! Trying to take care of the details so that you can concentrate on your precious quest."

"Precious quest?" Harry snarled. "It's just trying to stop an evil wizard from taking over the world and probably killing everyone I've ever met! Nothing for anyone else to worry about, obviously!"

"Oh no, no one else is doing anything to stop Voldemort," Hermione yelled. "Dumbledore hasn't given his life over to the attempt to stop him. Sirius is lying all alone in a hospital bed because he enjoys it!"

Even as she said it, Hermione knew she'd crossed a line. Harry could take almost any abuse, which she'd always supposed was a legacy of his miserable childhood, but to bring Sirius into what had been until then a fairly innocuous argument. . .

"Harry, I. . ."

"Get out."

It was barely more than a breath, but all the more devastating because of it. Hermione flinched. Ron, whose temper had been on the verge of explosion, turned pale. Ginny looked at Harry as though she had never seen him before.

"Get out," Harry repeated, his voice straining under tight control. "All of you. Leave. Now."

They looked at him in frank disbelief and then, as the calmly furious look on his face didn't change, one by one they stood up and made their slowly, sadly away from him. 

Passing last through the door, Ron turned to look at his friend.

"I know you've been through a lot recently," he said calmly. "That's why I didn't just lamp you one. But I'm warning you, if you_ ever_ speak to Hermione that way again, I'll hit you so hard that what you're feeling now will be a walk in the park, understand?"

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and strode off.

*

By the time Ron returned to the common room, Hermione had gone to bed. Ginny sat silently on the edge of a large group that was gathered around the other members of the house Quidditch team. Ron swore softly under his breath. He headed for the sixth year boys dormitory, pausing only to exchange a weak, less than heartfelt grin with Ginny. He wanted more than anything to go to her, to comfort her, to tell her that it would be okay.

But he held back. He knew Ginny as well as he knew himself, and she would no more appreciate such an empty gesture than he would.

Instead he walked past the team, ignoring the entreaties of Seamus and Dean to join them. Making his way up to the dormitory_, _he drew parchment, ink and a quill from his bag and sat down. Scratching the tip of his nose thoughtfully with the quill, he wondered exactly how he could phrase what he wanted to write.

*

__

Professor Lupin,

I'm worried about Harry. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore told you about his collapse. He's taking it really rather badly. Today he picked a big argument with me over nothing, and he's been cold and off hand to us all week.

I know we can't expect him to be back to normal immediately after being hurt so badly, but it's most unlike Harry to take a setback this way. Is there anything you can do? If nothing else, I'm sure he'd appreciate hearing from you.

Hope Snuffles is getting better,

Thank you,

Hermione.

Remus sat back, a small sigh escaping from him. His eyes flickered to the sealed door of the isolation wing before he opened the second letter. The tiny owl that had brought it to him was perched proudly on his shoulder, and was clearly awaiting a reply.

__

Professor Lupin,

Any word on Snuffles? Harry's gone barmy, and I reckon a bit of news would cheer him up. He's been a moody git all week, and now he's started shouting at us. Ginny too.

He was raving on about how it's him who'll have to fight You-Know-Who, so everyone should just get off his back if he wants to be miserable and rude to us. I could probably let him get away with it if it was just me, but he's never talked to Hermione that way before, and it's not fair to Ginny for him to be like this.

I'll keep trying to get him to snap out of it, but anything you can do would be great as well.

Hope Snuffles is feeling better,

Ron.

Remus drummed his fingers on his thigh for a few moments, then picked up a quill and some parchment and began to write.

*

__

Ron and Hermione,

Sorry I can't be there to help in person, perhaps Professor Dumbledore can help? I don't want to leave Snuffles. There's no improvement in his condition, but the doctors say it's too soon for there to be any real change. With something this bad he'll likely get worse before he gets better. Harry's not the only one who's had to use all of his energy just to stay alive. I sincerely wish that I had better news for you.

I'll write to Harry, try and make it sound upbeat without lying to him. Harry's never been one for false hope, after all.

I know it must be hard for you to have to put up with Harry like this. I'd like to ask you to stick with him, but I won't, that wouldn't be fair to you. I don't think I'll need to ask, though.

You'll need to keep an eye on Ginny. If Harry's acting poorly, it'll hurt her worst of all.

Harry's been through a lot lately and I suppose it's natural he'll lash out at those closest to him. Try and avoid provoking him - I know, you're not trying to provoke him - because Harry does have a temper, and he could do something he'll regret.

With friends like you around, though, I'm sure he'll be okay. I don't think the Marauders were as close. I'm proud that Harry has such good friends.

I'll keep you up to date on Snuffles,

Moony

"Well, that doesn't tell us very much," Ron said. "Sit tight, don't wind him up, eat your vegetables."

Hermione smiled, but didn't say anything. 

"It'd be nice, just once, if these things lined up in a nice, neat row and we got to deal with them one at a time."

"Yes, but that's not the way it works," Hermione said. "So what are we going to do?"

Ron looked over at Ginny, who was trying to do her Muggle Studies assignment but clearly couldn't concentrate. She kept looking over at the portrait hole, as though willing Harry to come through it.

"Let's give Harry a couple of days. Professor Lupin can write to him, and maybe that'll sort him out. If not, at least he'll have a bit of time to think."

Hermione nodded, and rested her chin in her hands.

"It's horrid not having Harry around."

"I know," Ron agreed. "Hey, d'you reckon this is what Crabbe and Goyle feel like now Malfoy's gone?"

"Oh dear," Hermione's face fell. "I do hope not. I don't want anything in common with them."

"That's not exactly very common minded of you," Ron teased.

"You're right," Hermione said. "But still. . . Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Yeah, can't say I exactly blame you," Ron said. "Hope it doesn't come back to haunt us. I mean, if Harry can turn on us. . ."

"Harry hasn't turned on us," Hermione said firmly. "He's just confused, that's all."

"Yeah," Ron nodded firmly. "Of course."

*

__

Harry,

I hear you've been having your usual peaceful year. If you can avoid getting killed, myself and Snuffles would appreciate it. I don't think it's too much to ask. I think you'd appreciate the benefits, as well.

One of those benefits is having friends. I wish I could be there to check you over and keep you company, but I'm sure that you appreciate I'm needed here.

I can't say I'm happy about choosing between you and Padfoot, but it's an easier choice than it could be. I can watch over him here, and while there's no improvement yet, I'm sure it's only a matter of time. 

I know you'll be okay, not just because you're at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, but because you have friends who care for you and who'll keep an eye out for you.

Don't push your friends away, Harry. They can be your greatest strength, if you're prepared to take a chance on them.

I'll owl you with more about Snuffles condition soon,

Moony

Harry finished reading the letter out and looked up at Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

"You couldn't wait, could you? Don't you think he has enough to worry about? His best friend is in hospital, and you're hassling him about me? I," Harry declared, "am fine."

He looked around at the others, daring them to say anything in contradiction to this as he lay in his bed.

"But I suppose I shouldn't expect anything else, should I? I've always been the one who has to take care of things. It always comes down to me, but I always have to protect other people, don't I? And you now what? That always makes me feel really terrible. You get pulled into things that don't concern you just because you're my friends. I'm sick of it."

He looked at the others again, but they stayed silent. They each had a horrible feeling about where Harry was going, but they hoped they were wrong. He couldn't mean what they thought he meant, could he?

"I keep putting you in danger. And you keep slowing me down. How many times have I had to save you? How many times has one of you saved me because I didn't know something that I should have done? It's not working out for any of us. Hermione, you shouldn't have to be worrying about the Temple of Le Fay, surely even you can't cope with the work we have and that kind of Ministry level research."

"Harry, I-" Hermione began, but he cut across her.

"Ron, the Quidditch team is yours. You're already the sole captain in all but name, well, here you are. The team is yours, and I know you'll make a great captain. Maybe Head Boy next year as well. At least one of us can have our deepest desire come true."

"You're giving up Quidditch?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head. 

"No, but I can't be captain as well as everything else."

"What everything else?" Ginny asked.

"I'm going to ask if I can increase the Dueling Club to at least twice a week," Harry declared. "And maybe I'll see about doing some private tutoring, like Remus did with Professor Skeeter."

"You don't sound like you'll have much free time," Ginny said carefully.

"None, really," he said, his gaze faltering as he tried to meet her eyes. "I'll be working harder on my own subjects, plus everything else I'll be taking on."

"What about us?" Ginny asked, her voice as calm as she could make it.

"There won't be an us," Harry said softly. "I put people in danger just because they know me. Sirius is in hospital because of me, Cedric died because of me, Pettigrew is alive because of me. I can't do this to people I care about anymore."

"You're breaking up with me?" Ginny asked. She couldn't believe it.

Harry's expression hardened, as though he were steeling himself for an unpleasant task. "You must have known the day would come eventually," he said, his tone becoming spiteful. "As soon as I leave here I'll enter the Auror Academy. Do you really think I'll have time for a girlfriend then? And one still at school, at that?"

"Oh," Ginny whispered, her cheeks reddening as the words sunk in.

"So there it is. I'm sorry it's had to come to this, but this," he waved Remus letter, "just confirms what I've been thinking. We're working at cross-purposes to one another. You all have good lives to look forward to, but it's me who has to make that possible. I can't, I _won't_ let anyone else be bothered by that. It's my duty. I have to take it on alone. I've been lying here all week, trying to come up with a way of saying it. The nice thing about being bedridden is that you have lots of time to think, and I'm sure that I've made the right choice."

Harry turned to each of them in turn.

"Hermione, I'm sorry I shouted at you. It was wrong of me to do it. I do think that what you're doing with the elves is valid, but I can't let myself be distracted by it. Good luck to you, and I hope that, someday soon, you'll make that breakthrough. If anyone can do it, you can.

"Ron, you've been the best friend I could have asked for, but I can't stand seeing you put yourself in danger's way for me. One of these days, it's going to be too much, and you'll take a curse meant for me. I'd never forgive myself if that happened. This way I won't have to.

"Ginny-"

"Save it," she spat, standing upright and knocking her chair over. "You don't want to be slowed down by me? You don't want to have to worry about me? Fine. Don't worry about it, Harry, you'll never even have to speak to me as long as you live."

She grabbed her bag and stormed from the hospital wing, slamming the door so loudly that Madam Pomfrey let out a scandalised "Miss Weasley!" which everyone else ignored. There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Harry spoke.

"That could have gone better," he sighed. 

"What do you expect?" Hermione said, fixing him with a gaze that was equal parts anger and pity. "You just broke up with her in front of us, Harry. That's not how you're supposed to do things!"

"She'll get over it," he said lamely. "Besides, it's better for her if she does hate me. It'll be easier for her in the long run."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. She stood up, and collected her things. "Ron, I'll see you back in the common room," she said, before turning and walking away."

Harry turned to look at Ron, who was scowling at him.

"In case you didn't guess, that was Hermione's way of giving me permission to knock some sense into you," Ron said. It sounded like a joke, except Ron's tone was deadly serious.

"Ron, I've made my decision, and now I have a lot of work to do," Harry said tiredly. "Can we just skip the part where you threaten me with violence? You'd never lay a finger on me when I'm in hospital, you've got too much honour for that."

"You just broke my sister's heart," Ron growled. "Don't talk to me about honour."

"Fine," Harry said, his tone one of absolute exhaustion. "Hit me. Teach me the error of my ways. It won't make a difference. This is for the best. For everyone."

"What gives you the right to decide that for us?" Ron said. "When did we ever object to helping you?"

"It's my right to choose my friends," Harry said, ignoring the second question. "And my right to choose if I don't want any. Please, Ron, just leave."

"Fine," Ron said. "When you pull your head out of your rear end, you know where to find us."

"Yeah, I do," Harry said quietly as Ron followed Hermione and Ginny's path out of the hospital wing. "But I won't be coming to you. Ever again."

__

To be continued. . .

****

Frantic: Thanks. Hope it stays that way…

****

Eric2: Dark Harry? Well, he's not entirely dark, but he may be a pretty grubby shade of grey for a while… Harry's not a happy chap right now.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Consequences

**__**

**_Chapter Eighteen: Consequences_**

**__**

Versions of the news spread like wildfire. One source said that Ginny had broken up with Harry. Another said that it was Harry who had broken up with Ginny. Still another swore that Harry and Hermione had been seeing each other behind Ron and Ginny's back. 

The one thing that the sources had in common was that not one came close to the whole truth. But then, the truth was so outlandish that Ron and Hermione were struggling to come to terms with it. They wandered aimlessly through Hogsmeade on the following Saturday morning, no real intent in their minds other than the need to clear their heads.

Ginny had been withdrawn and almost silent all week. She'd taken her meals at the Ravenclaw table with her friend Luna Lovegood, and had avoided all attempts by Ron or Hermione to talk about what had happened. Ron narrowed his eyes as she came out of Zonko's with Neville, Luna and Daniella. She was laughing, but a lifetime of knowing Ginny told him that she was forcing the laugh. He hissed a sigh out between his teeth.

Hermione followed his gaze, and nodded understandingly.

"She won't get over him easily," she said.

"What the _hell_ is Harry playing at?" 

"He thinks he's doing the right thing," Hermione said tiredly. They'd had this conversation several times already.

"How exactly does he think this is the right thing? Dumping us. Dumping Ginny! And all this extra work he's taking on. How's he going to cope with all that?"

"Well, he doesn't have any friends to distract him now, does he?" Hermione said, a little more sharply than she had actually intended. Ron looked at her guiltily.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't keep on about it."

"No, I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I agree with you. Harry's being stupid, but there's nothing we can do when he's in this sort of mood. You know as well as I do that when he gets an idea in his head, he can't be shaken. Not by us, anyway. Snuffles could do it, maybe, but not us."

Ron nodded glumly, the whole time watching Ginny and her friends. He knew that he wasn't the best person in the world for understanding emotions, but as Luna and Neville argued over an article in a magazine, he could see Ginny retreating from the group, her mind wandering as her eyes settled on Hogwarts, a few miles distant.

"What can we do?" he muttered.

"Just be ourselves," Hermione said. "If Ginny wants to talk, she will, but she'll do it in her own time."

"I'm not used to not being able to help her," Ron said. 

Hermione took his hands in hers and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Sometimes girls don't need a knight in shining armour," she said. "She'll be okay, eventually. Give her time. How would you feel if I broke up with you?"

"Well, I'd have a lot more time for Quidditch," he managed, before she turned his hair blue. They spent the rest of the day arguing happily about misuse of hair charms. Hermione finally gave in and agreed to restore his hair, once they'd got back to Hogwarts, and once everyone had seen it in its shimmering, shade shifting glory. Hermione was very proud of the way Ron's hair shifted slowly through the blue spectrum, and wanted other people to get a chance to appreciate it.

"After all, if there's a Ball this year, I might hire myself out to do the other girls hair."

Ron stopped waving his wand at his hair and muttering _"Finite Incantatem"_ to look at her.

"You think that there'll be a ball?"

"Why wouldn't there be?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno, hadn't thought about it. Er, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"If there is a ball, d'you think maybe we could go together?"

"Of course," she said, beaming happily.

"Good," Ron said, grinning. "Wouldn't want anyone else beating me to it."

"Honestly, Ron, you make it sound like I might say yes to anyone else."

"Well, I don't reckon you would, but I wanted to be sure," he grinned.

"Well, now you can be. I wouldn't go with anyone else."

"Good," he said. "Means I won't have to beat anyone up."

"You're so romantic," Hermione laughed.

"Just your knight in shining armour, out to defend milady's honour," he said with a smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

*

Harry was given permission to leave the hospital wing for a short time on Saturday morning. With most of the school emptied of pupils, there were far fewer people around, and Harry wouldn't have to put his weakened body through the usual buffeting that came with moving through the Hogwarts corridors.

He had been heading for Gryffindor Tower, eager to get some clean clothes. Even with Dobby appearing at least once a day to check on Harry and do his laundry, his clothes were starting to feel rather unpleasant. Truly clean clothes, he decided, would be absolute heaven.

The moving staircase changed his mind, however. Instead of letting him move upstairs, it spun and dropped, leaving Harry clutching the banister tightly as the stairs changed under his feet from stairs going up to stairs going down.

"Get a grip, Potter," he said, grimacing at the thought of what Draco Malfoy would have said if he saw Harry falling down the stairs.

_Malfoy wouldn't say anything. He's changed, remember? Big fan of yours, now. Speaking of which. . ._

"Hi Harry!"

"Hi Colin," Harry said, as warmly as he could manage.

"I didn't think you were out of the hospital wing yet. Everyone'll want to have a big party tonight."

"They want to have a big party when your brother cuts his toenails, Colin," Harry said. "And me getting out of the hospital is about as eventful."

"I guess so," Colin said, not sounding convinced. "Well, I need to go on to the library. If I can't do the Bubblehead Charm by Monday then Professor Flitwick says I'll drown!"

Harry blinked, but Colin sounded thrilled by the idea. He waved to Harry as he headed off towards the library.

_The Bubblehead Charm. I had trouble with that one. There's a real knack to it. Hermione spent ages going over it with me._

_I really wanted to change my clothes, too._

"Hey, Colin! Wait up!"

*

Seamus returned from Hogsmeade that day feeling somewhat subdued. Lavender hadn't appreciated his and Dean's brilliant prank of feeding her and Parvati a stick each of Babble Brain Bubblegum just before their last Divination lesson. The girls had talked utter nonsense - in Seamus' opinion nothing worse then they usually came out with during the lesson - for nearly thirty minutes. The girls hadn't forgiven the boys yet, which mean that Seamus had gone nearly a week without being around his girlfriend. 

He wasn't happy about that, even with a bagful of new jokes from Zonko's in his hand as he climbed through the portrait hole.

He was immediately cheered up by the first thing he saw as he entered the common room, though.

"Hermione, what have you done to Ron's hair?"

"Shut it, Finnegan. She's washing it out, alright?"

"No, not the blue, Ron, the red."

"My hair _is_ red, Seamus," Ron scowled.

"This red?" Seamus asked, holding up a textbook with a deep, blood red cover that was very different to Ron's usual coppery hair tone.

"What?! Hermione, what-"

"Ron, calm down!" Hermione scolded as Seamus walked away laughing. She made a sweeping gesture over Ron's head with her wand, and another streak of blue disappeared. She inspected Ron's hair more closely. "Seamus was only teasing," she added, with a very faint trace of doubt in her voice.

"Hermione!" Ron barked. "What have you done to my hair?"

"Have I told you how recently how much I love you?" Hermione said desperately, wincing slightly as she prepared for an explosion on Ron's part.

Whatever Ron's reaction would have been, it was interrupted as the portrait hole opened again and a few of the younger pupils cried out in surprise.

Colin Creevey came through the portrait hole with a huge bubble on his head. It was fully three feet across, and Colin, who was barely five foot tall, looked hopelessly overbalanced. 

Then he stood upright, and what for a second had looked like an attack was revealed to be nothing more than a somewhat overdone Bubblehead Charm. Colin popped the bubble with a wave of his wand as Harry followed him through the portrait hole, clutching his side and panting heavily.

"Colin," he gasped reproachfully. "I said don't run."

"Sorry Harry!" Colin said. "That was really good though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," Harry said, rubbing his side. "Glad I could help."

"Help? I couldn't even pronounce the spell two hours ago! Thanks Harry," Colin said earnestly.

"Yeah. Any time, Colin," Harry said, as Colin dashed off to show his achievements to his friends. Harry turned away and headed for the dormitory, almost faltering in mid stride as he saw Hermione and Ron watching him. He recovered quickly, barely looking at them as he passed.

Hermione went back to fixing Ron's hair, glad of the distraction, if not the tenseness it caused in her boyfriend. The tendons stood out against the skin of his neck as he watched Harry pass by, and he seemed to grow several inches in his chair as he sat up straight.

"Just relax," she murmured as Harry disappeared up the staircase.

"He's really doing it," Ron muttered, as he slumped back in his chair. "He's really giving up on us and going to try and do everything on his own. The Bubblehead Charm? He was dreadful at that until you showed him how to do it! Remember how much he complained about having to eat that Gillyweed just because no one looked up 'Diving' in the fourth year? And now he's teaching it to Colin Creevey."

"Ron, it's his choice," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I know," Ron said angrily. "It just gets me. He shouldn't be acting the big shot like this."

"He's not, though," Hermione said. "He's just doing what he was doing last year with the Duelling Club. So many people look up to Harry that I suppose that it makes sense for him to do this, in a way. Your Dad's the Deputy Minister for Magic. That must mean he has to make sacrifices sometimes. Harry's just taking that approach rather further."

Harry came back down the dormitory stairs and passed by Ron and Hermione again. He was still breathing heavily, his arms laden with enough clean sets of clothing for a week in the hospital wing.

"Are you moving out on us there, Harry?" Seamus called.

"No, I just have to go back to the hospital wing," Harry said. "Madam Pomfrey said I could go out for an hour, and that was four hours ago."

"She'll kill you," Seamus winced. "On the plus side, she'll know how to fix you afterwards."

Harry nodded, and turned to leave, but Dean stopped him.

"Are you okay, Harry?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly.

"You're breathing heavily," Dean said, his eyes narrowing. 

"I said I'm fine," Harry repeated. "You'd be a bit out of breath if you'd been through what I have."

"Yeah, sure," Dean backed down. "Do you want a hand with those clothes?"

"No," Harry said. "Thanks, though."

"No problem," Dean said. "Always happy to help."

Dean watched Harry leave, and kept one eye on the portrait hole for a long time after Harry had passed through it.

*

Harry had been right. He shouldn't have been out of the hospital wing for four hours. He also shouldn't have been chasing after Colin so soon after being allowed out of bed. Madam Pomfrey was red with rage when he returned. Only a constant stream of pupils returning from Hogsmeade with sniffles and coughs had prevented her hunting Harry down and dragging him back to his bed.

For his sins, she ordered him back to bed. She declared that he had suffered a setback in his recovery, and would certainly be spending another week under her care.

"I will not have my patients disobeying my orders," she said haughtily, defying Harry to speak.

"Sorry Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. He picked up a Transfiguration textbook and began going over the third year syllabus. He was determined to be able to handle anything anyone asked him about the things he'd studied. Hermione could do it, therefore it was possible, therefore Harry would do it. It was simple.

Madam Pomfrey checked on him every five minutes, tutting to herself as she watched Harry making steady progress through the book. His wand was in one hand and he practised the sweeping wand gestures required for each spell. He made sure not to say a single word, in case Madam Pomfrey accused him of deliberately attempting magic when his body wasn't ready for it.

But there was nothing Madam Pomfrey could do. In fact, she inwardly thought that it was a good thing that Harry had something to focus on. 

_Certainly it wouldn't do for him to dwell on how close he came to dying,_ she thought after checking on him for the seventeenth time.

*

Ginny felt rather as she had during her third year. Then it had seemed as though the whole school knew that she liked Harry, but that he liked Cho Chang. Now it seemed that the entire school knew that Ginny and Harry were a thing of the past, and no one much seemed to care whether she heard them talking or not.

"You shouldn't listen to them," Luna said to her halfway through Herbology on Tuesday afternoon. "If they don't know the whole story then their opinion is worth nothing."

_Does that mean my opinion is worth nothing? I don't think that I know the whole story. Or even very much of it. _Ginny wondered as she struggled with their Venomous Tentacula. She rapped one of its pods sharply with her secateurs, and it withdrew into itself, ruining the progress that they had made up to that point. She sighed listlessly, not really caring about Herbology. Suddenly Luna clapped her hand over Ginny's nose. Startled, Ginny looked at her friend, but Luna was already calling out across the greenhouse.

"Professor Sprout?"

"Yes Lovegood?" Professor Sprout, her attention fixed on Colin Creevey's Tentacula, which seemed to be in two minds about whether or not to spray him with venom or not.

"Ginny has been hit by our Tentacula," Luna said. "Can I take her to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, fine, off you go then," Sprout said distractedly, slowly drawing her wand. Luna and Ginny quickly left the greenhouse, Ginny looking back as they went through the door to see Sprout leaping at the rogue Tentacula, hauling its mouth back so that it sprayed the roof of the greenhouse rather than Colin and his partner.

"Out! Everyone out!" they heard her yelling as they headed back for the castle.

They sat at the back of the library, and began a whispered conversation.

"My father keeps a Tentacula in his office, so I didn't really need that lesson anyway. He says it makes negotiating with his writers much easier. I'll help you with the homework, if there is any."

"Thanks Luna," Ginny said. "But that wasn't why you had us leave, was it?"

"No," Luna said, her gaze settling somewhere in the middle distance. "I wanted to talk to you about Harry. You mustn't let this swallow you. I know that you miss him but it doesn't do you any good to waste away."

"Luna! We've only been broken up for five days! I'm hardly wasting away."

"He's in every thought you have," Luna said calmly. "Better that you find a way to get over him now then in six months time."

"I. . . I know," Ginny said, slumping back in her chair. "But if you'd seen him, Luna, it hardly seemed like Harry at all. It was like someone else was saying those things."

"Perhaps his mind has been invaded?" Luna asked, happily. "Dad would love a story like that for his magazine."

"No," Ginny sighed. "I don't really think he's been taken over. He's just trying to cope and he's doing it the only way he knows how to; By himself."

"I remember reading about him in Dad's magazine when I was young," Luna said. "It wasn't a very interesting story, not when the latest Crumple-Horned Snorkack sighting was just over the page. I was rather surprised that people made such a big thing of him when I arrived here."

"I was one of them," Ginny remembered glumly. "He never said anything, though."

"Perhaps he enjoyed the attention?" Luna said, looking around as the library door swung open. "After all, he does seem to attract followers."

"He's a leader," Ginny said, not following Luna's gaze. "People follow him automatically."

"Well, they're following him in here," Luna said. "Shall we find somewhere that's free of your past?"

Ginny looked up. Harry had come into the library in a shirt and jeans, clearly not yet back at lessons. He was leading a small group of younger pupils Ginny vaguely recognised as Hufflepuffs. Most of them were a foot shorter than Harry, no giant himself.

"He's really taking on private tuition," Ginny said. She felt safe gazing at him. He hadn't even glanced in their direction when he came in.

"Perhaps he's training up an army?" Luna suggested. "A battalion of loyal troops who will fight the Death Eaters while he tackles You-Know-Who?"

There was a clatter of dropped books in the row of shelves behind them, and the two girls turned to look over their shoulders, but it was only a Ministry researcher, scrabbling frantically at his dropped books.

"Luna," Ginny said, as they collected their bags and headed out of the library, "you need to stop reading your Dad's magazine."

She didn't feel the stare of the pair of very curious eyes that were focussed on her back as they left.

*

Harry was mildly surprised to discover that helping the other students was less of a chore than he had supposed. When he'd spoken to Professor Dumbledore about extending his Duelling Club duties to sessions, the Headmaster had thought it an excellent idea.

"You are very personable, Harry," he had said over a game of wizarding chess on the Sunday afternoon. "I imagine that our students can learn a great deal from you," he added as his bishop shattered Harry's last rook with its mitre.

"Not how to play chess," Harry said glumly, toppling his king over with a prod of his wand.

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Although I'm surprised to see a Gryffindor concede defeat before it is certain."

"Professor, you've beaten me five times in the last forty minutes," Harry said. "Defeat was inevitable. Besides, chess tires me out."

"Still feeling the effects of your fight with the Dementor?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. "Curious that it should affect you so severely this time," he added, peering intently at Harry.

"I was tired, and I made some silly mistakes," Harry said, his tone drawing a line under the possibility of further comment.

"It happens to everyone," Dumbledore said. "Hopefully you shall try and limit your mistakes when conducting your revision sessions?"

"I'll do my best," Harry said. "Professor?"

"Yes Harry?"

"What'll happen about my classes?"

"Well, I've spoken to your teachers, and they agree that one more week of rest should see you able to perform modest spells that will be of some use in a number of your classes. Of course in Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Potions you will not require much actual magic, so perhaps in your remaining studies you will do better than expected.

"However, the important thing is that you must not over exert yourself. It is far more important that you be healthy then anything else."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He wanted to ask Dumbledore one more question, whether the Headmaster thought he was doing the right thing, but Dumbledore was already getting ready to leave.

"Now, if you are determined not to provide me with any real challenge to my chess playing, I shall take my leave," he smiled. "I shall leave the arrangements of your sessions down to you, although if you need any advice, myself and my fellow members of staff will only be too happy to help."

Harry nodded as the Headmaster strode out of the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone to Madam Pomfrey's care again.

But now he was in the library, amid the bustle of students and the Ministry researchers going about their work, teaching a group of four Hufflepuff third years about the difference between the Levitation Charm they'd learned in their first year and the Hovering Charm they were struggling with.

"I don't understand," Owen Cauldwell grumbled, banging his wand against the desk.

"They're expensive to replace," Harry said mildly. "Besides, it's a nice wand."

Owen stopped, flushing slightly as the other Hufflepuffs sniggered.

"What is it you don't understand?" Harry asked.

"Well, they're interchangeable, aren't they?

"Not exactly," Harry said. "Wingardium Leviosa, the Levitation Charm, makes an object fly. You get a lot of movement for the energy put in, but not much control. If you just wanted to shift a boulder out of the way, then it's fine. Wingardium Levitata, the Hovering Charm, is more for fine control. Let's say you wanted to reach the top shelf in the Potions cupboard: Leviosa would get you there, but you'd probably crack your head on the ceiling. Levitata would take more control, but that's just it; You'd _have_ control."

Owen had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"What about the spell that makes things lighter? Could that be used instead?"

"No, that's a very tricky spell," Harry said. "To be honest, I can't do it half the time. A lot of fully grown wizards will use Levitata instead, but the Feather Light Charm is good if you've got something like a big stack of books you need to get to your common room."

Harry's mouth twitched. First the Flying Charm, then the Hovering Charm, and now the Feather Light Charm. It was almost as if the younger pupils were setting out to remind him of Ron and Hermione.

He'd glanced at Ginny as she left the library with her friend, but he didn't have anything to say to her. He'd made his decision, and it was better for everyone if he stuck to it.

His mind rested for a moment on a much less happy memory, and he grimaced.

_Much, much better._

*

A week later Harry scowled at his schedule of work for the next few days. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey had been unable to explain why another week of rest had failed to provide any change in his status; He was still as lacking in magic as any Squib or Muggle. Feeling frustrated at the non-appearance of his powers, Harry sneaked out of the hospital wing to join the Quidditch team for Quidditch for practise. No one was enjoying it very much. Ron worked the team incredibly hard, and seemed to enjoy pushing Harry in particular through a complete set of physical drills, despite the heavy rain. The other team members watched apprehensively as Harry stumbled and fell face first in the mud. 

He lay still for a second, long enough for Ginny's breath to catch in her throat, long enough for the smile on Ron's face to be replaced with a look of concern. Then Harry pushed himself upright on shaking arms, and clambered slowly to his feet.

"Harry, go back to the hospital wing," Ron yelled.

"I'm okay," Harry called.

"Like hell you are. Go away, Harry, don't come back until you're fit again."

"Ron-"

"No arguments," Ron snapped. "I don't have time to molly coddle you through training sessions. Come back when you're well again, and not one day before that. Got it?"

"Got it," Harry said angrily. He collected his Firebolt and made his way away from the pitch.

"Ron!" Ginny exploded. "How could you?"

But Ron stood firm. "Harry should know better than to mess around where his health is concerned. Besides, he's the one who wants to set an example. He can't do that and go around acting irresponsibly all the time."

"You don't care about that!" Ginny yelled. "You knew Harry wasn't fully fit. You just did that to him to spite him and show him up."

"And you still fancy him too much to see beyond it," Ron said, deliberately pitching his voice low so that only Ginny could hear him.

Ginny glared at her brother, her eyes narrowed, her hands balled into fists. She held the glare for a long moment while the other members of team shifted uncomfortably in the rain as the siblings matched wills.

"Let's get back to the practise," Ron announced. "We don't need the Seeker for that. Harry knows what to do."

They mounted their brooms and took to the air, each player glad of the opportunity to put some distance between themselves and the Weasleys.

*

Harry could tell that Madam Pomfrey had begun to despair of him. Rather than rage at him for going out in the rain in his weakened condition, she simply pointed at his bed, added several thick blankets to his already ample covers and poured out a gobletful of Pepper Up potion with a pointed look at him. He meekly drank the potion, grimacing as it burnt its way down his throat. With his ears letting off steam gently, he settled back into the plush bed and started reading his notes from Herbology the year before.

*

The next day, he slept late and awoke, blessedly free of coughs and sniffles, before attacking his fourth year Potions work. He broke for lunch and a meeting with third year Ravenclaws Orla Quirke and Stuart Ackerley to discuss their Herbology assignment. After lunch, he revised his Transfiguration notes from the year so far, scowling as he tried to make sense of the complex spells without being able to cast them. 

He made his return to the Great Hall for dinner that evening. There was an excited murmur as for many people it was the first they'd seen of him since Halloween. Harry realised that he'd been in the hospital wing for four weeks. A lot had changed in that time. 

He looked around, unsure of where he could sit. Hermione was on her own at the Gryffindor table, and he had to check his natural instinct to go and sit with her. Instead he made his way to the Hufflepuff table, where Ernie, Hannah and Justin made room for him.

"Feeling better, Harry?" Ernie greeted him. "Wonderful news. I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you. Hannah and I, well-"

"You finally got together?"

Ernie nodded, grinning widely. Hannah sat beside him, beaming brightly. Justin rolled his eyes, but he was clearly happy for them. Harry was struck by the similarity to himself, Ron and Hermione the previous year.

"Of course, we owe a lot to you and your wonderful girlfriend," Ernie said.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees. Harry knew without looking that Ginny had walked into the Great Hall at that precise moment.

"We're, er, we're not together any more," Harry said, staring at his plate.

"Oh," Ernie said. "Er, sorry old man. I, er, I didn't know."

"That's okay," Harry muttered, standing up. "I'm going to, I'm going to, I'm just going. See you later."

"You didn't eat anything," Hannah protested.

Harry didn't reply. He hurried from the Great Hall, scattering a cloud of first years in his wake.

Back in the hospital wing he took a drink of water, spilling a lot of it down him as his hands were shaking. He wiped off as much of the spilt water as he could, and sighed. Hanging the damp towel back up, he turned to walk over to his bed, but froze in place.

A large, heavy looking red envelope sat on his bedside table. Harry didn't need to get any closer to identify it. It was a Howler. A multitude of possible senders sprang to mind, but most of them were already at Hogwarts. Certainly Ginny and Ron, who he considered the prime candidates, had never been shy about speaking their mind when he'd upset them before. It really only left one possible source.

_The rest of the Weasleys,_ Harry thought, staring at the Howler from a safe distance. He'd been dreading this moment. _They've finally heard about Ginny and me. They're going to be mad. I'm probably lucky that it's _only_ a Howler._

He was granted a momentary reprieve by the appearance of Madam Pomfrey, who nodded at the Howler.

"I'm not the only one who wants to shout at you then," she said, cheerily. She seemed quite pleased that someone else would be yelling at Harry, as though this vindicated her in her desire to berate him for being a supremely difficult patient. "Well, you may as well open it," she said briskly. "This is about as private a room as there is, and if you want to sleep tonight, you'll have to open it sooner or later."

"Couldn't I just have a Sleeping Draught?" Harry asked.

"No. They're addictive, and I only give them out when strictly necessary. Now, I'll hear no more of this nonsense. Go over there and open it. I will of course shut my door, if it's your privacy you're worried about."

Harry hadn't even thought about his privacy. He didn't want to hear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's accusing voices. He wondered if Ginny and Ron's five older brothers had each chipped in with something personal.

_They can't understand. And now I'll feel guilty because of it, _Harry scowled. He slowly approached the Howler, wondering if throwing a jug of water over it would quiet it down a bit.

_Probably not. Just imagine if it were that easy. No-one would ever fear getting one. It'd just be *Dunk* end of worries._

Too late, Harry realised his mind had been made up for him. As he approached, the Howler began to smoke. He grabbed it hurriedly, and shoved it under his pillows, lying flat on top of them in the hope of muffling the Howler's message a little.

It didn't work.

"HARRY POTTER!!!" the Howler thundered. Harry winced. It was worse then he'd suspected. It was Mr. Weasley who was beginning the tirade. He'd only seen Mr. Weasley angry once, at Lucius Malfoy, but knew that he was a force to be reckoned with.

"HOW DARE YOU TREAT MY DAUGHTER IN SUCH A COWARDLY MANNER!!! BREAKING UP WITH HER IN FRONT OF HER BROTHER AND HER FRIEND? SHAME ON YOU HARRY. I WOULD HAVE HOPED THAT YOU WOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO TREAT A LADY IN SUCH A MANNER.

"AND SHAME ON YOU FOR ENDING YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH RON AND HERMIONE AS WELL!! HEAVEN ALONE KNOWS HOW MANY TIMES THEY'VE HELPED YOU, AND TO REPAY THEM IN SUCH A MANNER IS SHAMEFUL! I HOPE THAT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE PLACES YOU ON DETENTION FOR A VERY LONG TIME TO COME!"

"ARTHUR WEASLEY! YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE HOWLERS ARE TO SEND! STAND BACK AND LET SOMEONE ELSE HAVE A GO!" Mrs. Weasley's voice buffeted the pillows enough that Harry was pitched onto the floor. The Howler sprang triumphantly clear of its confines and blew a loud, papery raspberry at Harry before continuing.

"HARRY POTTER!" Mrs. Weasley continued. "I AM ASHAMED OF YOU, AND THAT'S SOMETHING I NEVER THOUGH I WOULD HAVE TO SAY! TO ACT WITH SUCH FLAGRANT DISREGARD FOR THE FEELINGS OF OTHERS IS MOST UNLIKE YOU!! I CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT'S COME OVER YOU, AND I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT YOU'LL SOON BE THINKING CLEARLY AGAIN."

"MUM!"

"YES, ALL RIGHT BOYS, GO ON THEN."

"HELLO HARRY," two voices chorused. "FRED AND GEORGE HERE!! JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT WE'VE GOT SOME EXTRA SPECIAL WHEEZES SAVED UP FOR YOU NEXT TIME WE SEE YOU."

"HARRY, PERCY HERE! REST ASSURED THAT THE MINISTRY IS WATCHING YOU VERY CLOSELY NOW!! ONE FOOT OUT OF LINE, AND YOU'LL BE UP BEFORE THE HIGH COURT BEFORE YOU CAN SAY DISAPPARATE!"

"HELLO HARRY, JUST BILL. JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT I KNOW SOME SPELLS THAT'D MAKE A ZOMBIE THINK TWICE. DON'T DO ANYTHING MORE TO UPSET MY LITTLE SISTER, GO T IT?"

"IT'S CHARLIE, KID! I CAN LAY MY HANDS ON DRAGONS, UNDERSTAND? LOTS AND LOTS OF DRAGONS!"

With that, the Howler gave one last, long, lingering raspberry before ripping itself to shreds and scattering its pieces widely about the room. Harry, still kneeling on the floor, let his head sink into his bed.

"Er, is this a bad time?"

_To be continued. . ._

**Frantic:** You know I live to see your reactions ;-) Harry getting Ginny back would take a lot of work on his part. Right now, Ginny can't even stand to be in the same room as him, poor kid.

**Eric2:** I like to keep my readers on their toes. Hope this is a quick enough update for you...

**Fair-Faye-Kahlan:** Hi, and thanks for going through the whole story :-) I'll definitely have to check out that story you mentioned. I have to say, you have some cool ideas for sorting Harry's head out. We'll have to see which, if any, come true.

**Sherbert79:** You're not the first person to say you don't like Harry :-) I'm afraid you're stuck with this version of him for the next few chapters, though. Hope you don't give up on him just yet.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Bad News Travels Faste...

**__**

**_Chapter Nineteen: Bad News Travels Fastest_**

**__**

It was Cho, her cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hear that, but, well..." she made a gesture that said that half the school had probably heard it. Harry let his head drop back down on the bed again before standing up.

"No, it's okay. What can I do for you?"

"I brought you some food," she said, picking a tray up from the floor. "Pork chops, roast potatoes, peas and apple tart for dessert."

"Thanks," Harry said, suddenly ravenous.

"Well, you didn't seem to eat much at dinner," she said. She set the tray down on Harry's bed, and while he made a start on the food, she swished her wand and collected all the shreds of the Howler, depositing them neatly in the bin.

"I wasn't hungry," Harry said, swallowing a mouthful of roast potato.

"I can see that," she grinned, arching an eyebrow at the already half-empty plate.

"Yeah, well..." Harry tailed off, not wanting to say anything else. "Thanks, though. You didn't have to do this."

"It's okay. I know Madam Pomfrey tries her best, but she's a nurse, not a cook."

Harry looked around, making sure the school nurse was in her room before nodding his agreement.

"D'you want to sit down?" he gestured at the end of the bed.

"Thanks. So, when's your next match?"

"Um," Harry thought for a second while chewing a mouthful of peas. "Two weeks on Saturday, we're playing Hufflepuff."

"Watch out for their Beaters," Cho said. "They were putting a lot of Bludgers my way."

"I'll bear it in mind," Harry said, filing the comment away. In truth, he had contingency plans worked out for every strategy the Hufflepuffs might try, but he was still glad of the other Seeker's point of view.

Cho was picking at a darn in Harry's sheet. "Um," she said, uncertainly.

"Yes?" Harry asked, a forkful of potato halfway to his mouth.

"Did you really resign as Quidditch captain?"

"Yes," he said, shoveling the potatoes into his mouth.

"Why?" she asked, genuine bewilderment in his voice.

"Because I wasn't any good at it," Harry said shortly. "Ron was born to captain the team, and having me second guess him was pointless."

"But you were coming up with good tactics," she said. "I know it was you who worked out how to beat Slytherin." 

"I can still do that," Harry said. "It's just there's no point to me being captain when all I was doing was agreeing with Ron. Besides, I've got enough to do as it is."

"I've heard. You're tutoring now?"

"Yeah. The Duelling Club is fun, but without magic I'm not much good in front of a crowd. In a smaller group, I can be much more effective. How often do you see Professor McGonagall actually transfigure anything? In a small group, I won't be expected to be this incredible wizard who can do any spell. But I can try and _teach_ any spell."

"It's a lot to ask of one person," Cho said.

"Dumbledore can do it," Harry said. His expression changed, hardening. "I bet Voldemort could, as well."

"You're only sixteen, Harry," Cho said in alarm. "You _can't _believe you can do what they can. They're the most powerful wizards for centuries."

"I'm not saying it's easy, just that I have to try. Everyone expects great things of me. I can't let them down."

"And what about your friends, Harry?" Cho asked. "What about Ginny, Ron, and Hermione? As far as I can tell, they don't expect anything of you, except for your time."

"Did they send you?" he asked, scowling. "Anyway, it's time I don't have. It was better for them that I make the clean break now than a messy one later." His voice faltered slightly. "Besides, they wouldn't understand what I have to do."

"Did you give them the chance?" Cho asked. But Harry ignored the question, and any crack that had appeared in the image he projected disappeared.

"Thank you for dinner," he said. "As I said, I've a lot of work to do. If you don't mind?"

Cho didn't have much choice. She stood up and headed for the door, glancing back as she was about to leave. Harry was already absorbed in a textbook, deaf to the world around him.

_What are you hiding, Harry? _She wondered, as she headed for the west wing and the Ravenclaw common room.. _I know that there's _something _you're not telling us._

*

Friday was Harry's last day in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey bid him farewell with a stern admonishment not to over exert himself. 

"You're still not able to cast even the simplest spell," she said. "Don't deny it! You_ are_ getting better," she added grudgingly, as though this was hardly sufficient reason for him to be let out of the hospital wing. "However, your recovery is going much slower then I would have expected. If the Headmaster didn't feel that you needed to be attending lessons..."

"I'm sure Potter understands, Madam Pomfrey," Professor Skeeter said. She had appeared minutes earlier and told Harry that she would be accompanying him back to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't seem to have much say in the matter, and was rather grateful for her taking his pile of clean clothes as they left the hospital wing. There were times when he still felt rather weak.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Skeeter suddenly asked, "What happened with the Boggart, Potter?"

"I arranged to tackle it with Ron, but rather than make him face his worst fear, I decided to do it alone," Harry said dully, as though this explained everything.

"As I understand it, you've not had problems with Dementors for a long while," Skeeter commented. "Why was Halloween so different?"

"I was tired," Harry said distantly. "I couldn't focus."

Skeeter gave Harry a look that said plainly that she didn't believe him, but she let the matter drop. 

Harry sighed. Clearly no one was going to believe what he said about that night.

"What are you going to do about the Duelling Club?" Skeeter asked. Harry stopped for a second before replying.

"What _can_ I do?" he asked. "I can't do magic, I can't help with your weapons training. To be honest, I was thinking that I might show up and practise under you and Dean. I can borrow someone's Gladius, Ron or someone." He was a little bit proud that his voice hadn't caught on Ron's name. It was starting to feel more natural not to think of him as a friend.

"If you're serious, then I am certain we can do better then that," Skeeter replied. "I'm sure you know what's in a glass case behind Dumbledore's desk, yes?"

Harry thought back, and this time he did feel a pang of guilt. The last time that he had been in Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster and Hagrid had talked him into giving a relationship with Ginny Weasley the chance it deserved. Now it had run it course, and it felt as though a part of his life was...

He wrenched his mind away from thoughts of Ginny, and thought instead of Dumbledore's office. In a glass case, behind the Headmaster's desk was...

"Godric Gryffindor's sword!"

"Correct. I am sure that the Headmaster will have no objection to you borrowing it."

Harry smiled slightly. He remembered how the sword had appeared from the school Sorting Hat when he had been in the Chamber of Secrets because-

He winced, the thought painful in his mind.

"Potter? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Harry said quickly. "I just need some more sleep. I've got a lot of work to do."

They had reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Skeeter looked at Harry, concern evident on her face.

"Well, don't overdo it. I expect you to be able to last the pace in class on Monday."

"Wouldn't miss it," Harry managed, as the tiredness hit him again. He was becoming frustrated with the irregular bouts of exhaustion, but was resigned to their continuing until his magic began to return. The Fat Lady swung open without him giving the password ("Just this once! And for the record, it's 'Inconceivable.'")

"Right, thanks," Harry yawned, as he clambered through the portrait hole, his clothes heavy in his arms.

"Back for five seconds and you're bored of us already? Sorry we're not interesting enough for the amazing Harry Potter."

It was Ron, standing in front of Harry with his arms crossed and a forbidding look on his face.

"Now, would you mind moving, oh great one, or do I have to ask your permission to go to the library?"

Harry went to step aside silently, but Ron pushed past roughly. Harry's clothes flew from his hands, and Harry staggered backwards, toppling over a footstool. Ron paused at the portrait hole, seemingly about to turn back and help Harry up, or even apologise, but his expression hardened again, and he disappeared from sight.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville asked, offering his hand to help Harry up.

"Yeah..." Harry said tiredly, letting Neville pull him upright. "Just, just lost my balance is all."

Neville gave Harry a look that said that he knew he wasn't telling the truth. Harry was getting very good at recognising it.

"I used to lose my balance a lot," Neville said. "Still do, sometimes, when Crabbe and Goyle are around."

Harry gave Neville a sympathetic look. "If they're giving you trouble, I could-"

"No, it's fine," Neville said. "They can't do anything really bad. I just laugh at them most of the time. You don't let things like that bother you, so why should I?"

"Thanks, I think," Harry said.

"I meant it in a good way," Neville laughed. "Lots of people look up to you. I'm one of them. You get on with stuff, don't make a fuss, and you do what you think is right. Gran says my Mum and Dad were like that."

"Neville, I-" Harry stopped short. He wasn't supposed to know what had happened to Neville's parents, but he'd found out in his fourth year by accident. When Neville was a baby, they had been tortured until they lost their minds, and ever since then, they had been in hospital. It occurred to Harry with a start that they were probably in St Mungo's, as Sirius was. Harry felt a wave of guilty embarrassment over making such a fuss about Sirius. He too often forgot that Neville had it every bit as bad as he did, if not worse. Harry's determination to carry on with his attempt to be the person he was expected to be grew stronger as he looked at Neville. He thought of his friend's efforts in the Hogsmeade battle six months before. Neville had fought back Dementors with one of the very few fully corporeal Patronuses cast by a Hogwarts student. His Patronus had been a fair-haired man who looked much as Harry imagined an older Neville would look. Harry was sure that it had been Neville's father, Frank Longbottom. Harry had helped Neville cast that Patronus, had unknowingly helped him stand up to Crabbe and Goyle.

_Yes,_ Harry thought. _I'm doing the right thing. I _must_ be._

"I was wondering if you needed any help with your work," he continued out loud. "I know you always struggle with Potions, but Hermione helps you with that, and to be honest, I'm pretty dreadful too."

Neville looked at Harry carefully. "Um, well, Transfiguration is what I'm most having trouble with, really," he said. "I just don't get the Switching Spell."

"I can help with that," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "What bit are you stuck on?"

"I think it's the wand waving. I just can't think what else it would be. I've been stuck on it for over two years. I was really lucky it didn't come up on the O.W.Ls."

"Mmm," Harry agreed, taking a seat opposite Neville and resisting the urge to sink back into the plush armchair and doze off. "Well, let's see it."

Neville set up a goblet and a notebook next to one another on the table.

"If I do it right, the book should go metallic like the goblet," he muttered. 

"Yeah," Harry said, struggling to stay awake.

Neville waved his wand, and muttered an incantation under his breath. The book burst into flames and, before Harry could do anything, Neville snatched up the goblet and tipped the water inside onto the flames.

"Keeps happening," he muttered, looking embarrassedly at Harry.

But Harry was slumped, fast asleep, in the armchair.

"I didn't think it was that bad," Neville sighed, before picking up an undamaged notebook and starting over.

*

Harry awoke with a start several hours later. He looked around wildly, unable at first to work out where he was. Then his eyes adjusted to the poor light given off by the dying embers in the fireplace and he recognised the outlines of the Gryffindor common room. He settled back in the chair, realising that someone had covered him with a blanket.

_What now? Do I go up to the dormitory? Can't see Ron being happy with that. Maybe I'll just sleep on the sofa._

He looked over at the sofa, and his stomach lurched as he realised someone was already sleeping there.

Harry stood up, his joints protesting at his sleeping in the armchair. Walking towards the sofa, he realised that it was Hermione who had fallen asleep there. He tried to work out why she was there.

_No books, no quill, no parchment. She wasn't working. Maybe she had an argument with Ron? But why not just go up to her dormitory?_

With a start, Harry realised that Hermione was there to keep an eye on him. Another guilty pang bit hard, but Harry ignored it. He stared at Hermione for a long time, mulling over how he could convince her to go up to her dormitory. In the end, he settled for shaking her shoulder gently, until a snort and a groan told him she was awake.

"Hermione, go to bed," Harry ordered.

"Mmmm?" Hermione looked up, her bleary gaze finally focussing on Harry's piercing green eyes.

"Go to bed, Hermione. It's freezing down here."

And with that, Harry turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the common room and up the stairs towards the boys' dormitories.

Hermione sat for a long time in silence, and then let out an exasperated sigh before making her way up to her own dormitory.

*

Ron awoke the next morning with a scowl on his face. He'd argued the night before with Hermione, and had stormed off to bed without thinking of apologising. He stared angrily at the canopy over his four poster bed, but after a few minutes knew that he was doing no one any good by sulking.

_I need to see Hermione, _he decided. _Apologise to her about last night. If she wants to chase after Harry, that's up to her. It's not my place to say if she's wrong or right._ _I hope she didn't spend all night on the couch, though. I should have checked, or taken her a blanket, or something._

He sighed, and was about to get up when someone spoke.

"Ron, are you awake?"

Ron drew his curtain back slowly.

"Harry?"

"Ron, did you make Hermione stay downstairs last night?"

Something in Harry's tone stung Ron. It was as though Harry was insinuating that Hermione staying downstairs had been stupid, therefore it must have been Ron's idea.

"No, I didn't," he snapped. "She did it off her own bat. Don't know why she bothered, personally."

"Neither do I," Harry said calmly. "If you see her, tell her that I don't need babysitting."

"I will," Ron said shortly. "Like I said, don't know why she bothered."

With that, Ron banged out of the dormitory, and disappeared from view.

Harry let out a deep breath.

"Well, that should keep Ron off my back."

*

Hermione was just coming down from the girls dormitory as Ron arrived angrily in the common room.

"Ron," she said coolly, not wanting to so easily forgive him for their argument the night before.

Ron drove a fist hard into a sofa cushion, before taking a deep, shuddering breath and scowling.

"I wanted to apologise," he said. "You have every right to chase after Harry and try and make him see that he's a complete idiot. Thing is, he's such a git that I don't reckon you've got much chance of getting through to him."

Hermione blinked several times, taking this in.

"Did you two speak?"

"Yeah, we had a nice little conversation," Ron spat out. "He said to tell you that you needn't bother chasing after him and that he doesn't need babysitting."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "Well, that's his tough luck, really, isn't it?"

"Ye- What?"

"Ron, I don't believe for a second that Harry really thinks that what he's doing is right."

"Hermione, he said it himself. Leave him alone."

"Oh Ron, he wouldn't say that if we weren't getting to him. You know what Harry's like. He probably thinks that being friends with him will make us targets."

Ron paused to think about this.

"So when he had that run in with the Boggart Dementor thing, you think..."

"I think he relived seeing Ginny in the Chamber, you with those big spiders-"

"-and you in the hospital wing," Ron finished. "I dunno. He could've just said that, instead of going through all this."

"That's never been Harry's way," Hermione said. "He'd do it all on his own if he could, and now he thinks he has an excuse."

Ron shook his head, not convinced. "I'm not sure, Hermione," he said. "He really seems different. I can't imagine Harry being bad to Ginny unless something really changed with him. Us, maybe, yeah. Not Ginny."

Hermione looked at Ron.

"I can't just give up on him," she said. "Not after everything he's done for us."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I think you're wrong, and I can't forgive him for being so foul to Ginny. I... I won't get in your way, won't try and stop you, but I can't help you with this. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," she said. "It's more than I expected. I was worried that you might, well, break up with me."

Ron grinned. "That's another thing you'll have to do by yourself. You'll get no help from me if you ever decide we should break up."

"That," Hermione said with an impish grin, "is a lot more than okay."

And she stood up on tiptoe to kiss him firmly on the lips.

*

Ginny didn't begrudge anyone their happiness, but she still soured slightly when she went downstairs to find Hermione kissing her brother in the middle of the common room. It certainly wasn't how she'd planned on starting her day. 

She made her way out through the portrait hole in silence, hoping to catch Luna or Daniella or any of her other friends at breakfast. 

She was in luck, meeting Luna as the two girls crossed the Entrance Hall and approached the Great Hall.

"You should sleep more," Luna declared, after having to repeat herself for the third time.

"Thanks, Luna. I know I look terrible. There's no need to rub it in."

"I suppose that you could look better, but that's not what I meant. You lie awake and worry about Harry, and you're exhausting yourself. I'm sure that it's not good for you," she said with considerable understatement.

"What do you suggest, Dr Lovegood?" Ginny asked, picking at her bacon unenthusiastically.

"_The Quibbler_ has a competition in which you can win a pet from Ballymena Zoo. You could enter and win a familiar."

"Ballymena Zoo? Luna, the only animals they have there are wild beasts. Hagrid keeps trying to arrange field trips there, but it's way too dangerous! I'm not surprised they're trying to give some of those things away. Why on earth would I want one?"

"Well, it would give you something to do other than mooning around over Harry Potter."

"Luna, I'm sorry if I'm boring you, but I miss Harry. I can't help that."

"I understand that. I think having a familiar would help you get over him."

"I'm not going to get over him! I love him!"

In all her life, Ginny had never experienced a moment in time when she could have heard a pin drop. A large family and a wild school life had prevented her from finding that perfect moment of silence.

But at that precise moment, the Great Hall fell silent. Professor Dumbledore had risen to make an announcement, and the Sunday breakfast crowd was small enough that there was actually true silence.

Except for Ginny's heated outburst.

Ginny flushed red with anger and embarrassment, and stood up abruptly. Luna stared placidly at her, as though this revelation was nothing other that obvious. But Ginny had never before said the words, even to Hermione.

_And never, not even once, to Harry. And now the whole school will know._

A lifetime of sharing a house and a school with her six older brothers had left Ginny with swear words for every occasion, including a few she'd invented herself. But she couldn't for the life of her think of one that adequately expressed how she felt at that precise moment.

Grabbing Luna's hand, she dragged her friend out of the Great Hall and into the corridor beyond. She heard the crowd start talking again, animatedly and loudly.

"There were kippers on the menu for the next course," Luna said mildly. "I like kippers."

"Don't worry about kippers, Luna," Ginny said. "You're right. I really, really need to get over Harry. That was the worst moment of my life, and it's all because of him. Well, I'm sick of it. That sort of thing was supposed to stop when we got together, and I'll be, well, I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to let it start happening again. I'll need your help."

Luna nodded. "I think I've still got the latest _Quibbler_ in my bag," she began.

"But not the Ballymena beasts, Luna. Please. Do you have any other ideas?"

Luna blinked slowly, then said, "Yes. Lisa Turpin is always breaking up with boys. She always says that it's best to just move on to the next one."

"I don't know if I'm ready to move on," Ginny said. 

"Well, it doesn't have to be a real relationship, I suppose," Luna said. "But maybe you could make some other male friends? That big American boy is in your year, although Dad says that Americans try and gouge him for more money then they're worth, so he may be rather an unextravagant date."

Ginny tried to imagine herself going out with Josh Cochran, but her mind rebelled. "No, not Josh. He's too tall. I'm only 5'2, Luna."

"Well then, what about other Gryffindor boys? I would try and arrange something with a boy in my house, but, well, you know."

Ginny smiled. She did know. Luna's often obscure conversation and slightly off-beat appearance - today she was wearing her favourite radish earrings and had her wand shoved down one of her socks - had led to her being given the nickname 'Loony'. A lot of people had judged her solely on her reputation, and even Ginny had been a little intimidated when the two of them had been paired off during Muggle Studies in their third year. Luna's first words to her had been "Hello. You're Ginny Weasley. You opened the Chamber of Secrets. Do you know anything about electricity?"

Ginny had never found out how Luna knew that she had been the one opening the Chamber, but she did know a lot about electricity, thanks to her father. By the end of the class, the two girls had been fast friends and Ginny, who had previously had trouble making friends at Hogwarts, quickly found herself settling in.

Looking at Luna now, she grinned.

"Tell you what," she said. "Let's not worry about stupid boys right now. Let's let them worry about us." 

At that moment, Harry came downstairs, crossed the Entrance Hall and with a muttered "Excuse me," walked around the girls and into the Great Hall.

Ginny beamed.

"If I were hung up on Harry Potter, I'd be watching him now, wouldn't I?"

"You're forcing yourself not to," Luna pointed out.

"One step at a time," Ginny said, laughing at herself. "Now, as I made you miss breakfast, would you like some chocolate?"

"No, thank you. _The Quibbler_ had an article on exactly what they put in chocolate. Some of the spells are extremely hazardous to your health."

"Luna, it's chocolate. There are no spells on chocolate. _Muggles_ have chocolate. There's no magic in chocolate."

Luna just looked at her.

"Okay, there's poisonous spells in chocolate. I don't care! I'm giving up Harry, I'm not giving up chocolate too!"

Luna watched her carefully. Ginny sighed.

"Go and get your kippers then," she said.

*

Harry finished his breakfast without incident, other than deflecting with his goblet Seamus' attempt to fire a kipper into the middle of his scrambled eggs with a Weasley Food Fight Four Thousand. He also agreed to tutor Seamus on the Shield charm the following evening, after working with Ravenclaw's Su Li on her Care of Magical Creatures essay.

As he left, he saw Hagrid trying to catch his eye. He pretended not to see his friend, dashing past with his head down. The guilty pang he felt this time was much stronger than he'd anticipated, but Hagrid _had_ been the one who had rescued him from the Dursleys more than five years before. 

_It's all for the best, Potter,_ Harry told himself as he pushed his way through a crowd of second years and out of the Hall.

*

Later that day, Harry made his way wearily up the stairs to the dormitory. He'd spent the morning working harder than he could ever remember working, trying hard to bring his Potions work up to scratch. After an hour of trying, and failing, to get his Anasthesia draft to the same consistency that the textbook required, he found himself thinking longingly of asking Hermione for help.

_That's not an option,_ he thought with a scowl. _That's fine. I need to be able to do this stuff myself, not just rely on Hermione. Now, concentrate._

To his great surprise, ten minutes later the potion was the correct consistency, colour and - he took a cautious sniff at the fumes - smell. With that success behind him, he set to work on the Pepper Up potion. He got it right first time, although well outside the time Snape would have allowed in a practical lesson. He made a note that he had to improve his speed at preparing Potions ingredients, then hurriedly packed his bag, tidied up and dashed off to the library to work with Neville on the Switching spell.

But now Harry had two hours free, two hours where he could catch up on his sleep. He looked at his watch; it was barely two o' clock, but he was already exhausted. Madam Pomfrey's stern admonishment about over exerting himself rung in his ears. He shook his head weakly to try and clear his thoughts, but it just made his head swim. Opening the door to his dormitory, he willed himself inside before dropping onto his bed. 

He reached up to take off his glasses, and jumped as his hand brushed against something soft and feathery. Looking up, he saw a large barn owl sitting haughtily on his headboard. The owl had a familiar looking crest on a chain around its neck. Harry blinked several times, his eyes slowly swimming into focus. He recognised the crest as being the same as the one on the owl that had brought Remus' last letter from St Mungo's. His pulse quickened as he took the letter from the owl's talons. The owl gave a proud, satisfied hoot, spread its wings and took off, soaring out through the open dormitory window. 

Harry barely noticed. His mouth was suddenly very dry, and his throat had tightened painfully. He dreaded opening the letter and it being bad news. While he knew that neither Remus nor Dumbledore would deliberately hurt him, his hands still shook as he opened the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I wish that it was good news I was bringing you with this letter, but I'm afraid it's not._

_Snuffles' condition hasn't improved since we last spoke. The doctors still have no clue what's wrong with him. _

_I'm hoping I'll have better news to report in my next letter. Dumbledore is arranging for a number of foreign mediwizards to come and visit. Someone, somewhere, knows how to cure Snuffles. _

_He's not getting any worse, Harry, we can take some consolation from that. He's a stubborn mutt, and it'll take more than some poisoned meat to put him out of the running._

_I hope that you're feeling better. I've only heard vague stories of people draining all their magic before, so I'm quite interested in hearing how you're getting on._

_I hope you're paying attention to what I said earlier. If nothing else, being here really hammers home how important friends are. Being a werewolf means that I haven't made many friends, and I hate the thought of losing another one. Don't put yourself through that. Keep your friends close, Harry._

_I'll speak to you soon, and hopefully I'll have better news for you._

_Give my regards to the others. You're all welcome to write any time you want. I'm not exactly rushed off my feet here,_

_Moony_

Harry read over the letter several times before taking a quill and parchment from his bedside table. Pushing his weariness aside, he scribbled a short reply.

_Moony,_

_Everything here is fine. I'm feeling loads better, almost back to normal-_

Harry stopped to yawn hugely. Looking back at the parchment, he scowled at the huge ink blot that had dropped from his quill and automatically reached for his wand to clean it up. He was halfway through the incantation when he remembered his lack of magic and sighed, his wand dropping from his suddenly limp grip. He soaked up the excess ink with a torn robe and continued writing on the other side of the blot.

_I'm remembering what you said, don't worry. I'm making sure everyone is okay here. You worry about Snuffles, and I'll take care of everyone else._

_If you can, let Snuffles know I'm thinking about him. Keep me up to date, and don't neglect your health either_

_Harry_

Harry set the letter aside for sending later, and fell into a deep, exhaustion fueled sleep before his head even touched the pillow.

_To be continued..._

**Fair-Faye-Kahlan: **Yep, that was Cho. As for Harry and Ginny, well, you'll have to wait and see on that one.

**Sherbert79:** Yes, Fred and George will be back and Harry will be on the receiving end of at least one prank from them, but there'll be other pranksters out and about in Hogwarts this year as well.

**Eric2:** So, were you right? And I'm glad I'm keeping you on your toes, too.

**Frantic:** Yep, Cho it was.

**Daily Prophet Reporting: **Nice to know I finally made you de-lurk, and I'm looking forward to more reviews ;-) Much as I like OotP-Ginny, that's not quite how I wrote her in Dementors' Kiss. Still, she's a growing young woman, so who knows how she might end up come the end of the series. As for this series staying H/G... Don't kill me, but both Harry and Ginny will be going on dates with other people during this story. Do they get back together again eventually? _That_ would be telling...

**Kalieris****:** I suppose I could have spelt it out, but yes, at NEWT level, all classes are joint groups with all four houses.

**hhxbfsnxfs****: **argjadfguvm ailgfsfdg mmlifgj jijfaigaijcjfmahgm adf!


	21. Chapter Twenty: The Announcement

**__**

**_Chapter Twenty: The Announcement_**

Harry was in bed before eight on Sunday evening. After the forty-five minutes of sleep he'd managed after writing to Remus, he'd taken a group of Hufflepuff first years through their Dark Arts work. The younger students were dueling with quarter staffs, and Harry, who hadn't attended that lesson, was really only there to supervise. After that he had seen Hermione and let her know the latest on Sirius, walking off before she could attempt any other conversation.

Harry had arrived at dinner forty minutes early, and stretched out on a bench, which earned him half an hour of rest and a stern telling off from Professor Sprout, who was a close friend of Madam Pomfrey. He weathered the lecture and spent dinner picking listlessly at the little food he wanted. He found that, along with the waves of tiredness, his appetite was unpredictable as well.

He had planned Sunday evening as the time he would do his own work, but by half-past seven, his eyelids had grown heavy and he knew that it would be pointless. He stood up and packed his books, nodding to Dean, who was sitting next to him, and headed for the dormitory stairs. He paused briefly, very aware that someone in the room was watching him, but he pushed onwards towards his dormitory and his bed, where he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

In fact, two people had been watching him as he left. Hermione, Ron and Ginny had all noticed his rising, and while Ron had looked away, his expression unreadable, Ginny and Hermione had exchanged frustrated looks, before going back to their work.

*

Harry awoke before six on Monday morning. He yawned and stretched, feeling refreshed for the ten hours of sleep that he had managed. Rising quietly, he dressed and made his way downstairs, picking up where he had left off the night before.

By eight o'clock he had polished off his Transfiguration assignments and was making a start on Colin Creevey's third year Arithmancy. He barely noticed the other Gryffindors as they passed him by, and only looked up when the common room's grandfather clock chimed eight, coinciding with his stomach growing loudly. For a moment he considered missing breakfast, but a second, even louder stomach growl, made up his mind for him.

He made his way to the Great Hall and listened quietly to Josh, Seamus and Dean discussing the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. It would be the last game for the Gryffindors until they played Ravenclaw in April, so everyone was keen to put in a good performance. Harry, who hadn't been up on his Firebolt in over a month, was particularly eager to get flying again. Ron had instilled a tough regime of physical training for the team that Harry was under strict orders to not take part in. He was somewhat grateful for not having to take part in Ron's already legendary 'Three times around the lake then start lifting weights' programme, but a part of him missed the camaraderie it instilled.

_What I'm doing is more important than Quidditch,_ he reassured himself. _Next year I probably won't even play._

_But a big win _would_ help Gryffindor morale._

Harry was so caught up in planning the match that he barely noticed Dumbledore rising to his feet. Only when the Headmaster tapped his knife against his crystal goblet did Harry look up.

"Now, I believe one or two of you have been anticipating this announcement for quite some time."

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, sitting across the table from Harry, exchanged knowing smiles. Glancing around, Harry noticed that a lot of the girls had the same knowing looks on their faces. He groaned inwardly as he realised what the announcement would be.

"The annual Hogwarts Ball will be held this year on December the 31st, Hogmanay, and will once again automatically be open to all students of fourth year and above, although you may certainly invite a younger student if you wish. 

"The Hogwarts Express will run from Kings Cross station on the thirtieth of December and, as was, ah, eventually announced yesterday, this Saturday will be a Hogsmeade Saturday. Will everyone intending to attend the Ball please give their name to their head of house by the Wednesday before term ends? Thank you."

Dumbledore sat down, and the Great Hall was immediately filled with excited chatter as people debated who would ask who would go with whom and, from a few very brave or very sure students, public approaches to their intended dates. Harry noticed Ron making sure of Hermione as his date while Eloise Midgen strode up to Justin Finch-Fletchley and asked him to the Ball in front of all the Hufflepuffs. Harry's attention was distracted before he could find out Justin's answer, however, as Dean grabbed his sleeve.

"Harry, I just remembered, have you got time to help me with something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Er, the Patronus charm."

"Ah, Dean, I wish I could but..." Harry paused. He probably _could_ do it, one on one. Maybe they wouldn't have a Dementor, but he hadn't used a Dementor when he was teaching Ginny, and she had learned it well enough.

"You know what, let's do it," Harry said, grinning. "Is Wednesday night okay?"

"Great," Dean said.__

Harry nodded, and added 'Dean Thomas - Patronus - Wednesday night' to the organiser he'd taken to carrying around with him. It hadn't escaped Harry's attention that it was very similar to the one that Uncle Vernon used to keep the times of his business meetings straight.

Looking back up, his gaze met Ginny's. The two stared at one another for a long moment before Ginny turned abruptly away and began talking to Dean about the next day's practise.

When breakfast was finished, Harry made his way up to the staff table.

"Alright, Harry?" Hagrid boomed. "Yer back in classes today, is that right?"

"Yeah" Harry said. "Sorry, Hagrid, I need to talk to Professor McGonagall."

"Oh, right, fair enough," Hagrid said, looking a little hurt. "Well, okay. Guess I'll see you in class on Wednesday, then."

"Yeah, see you then," Harry said. He turned away, quashing any feeling of guilt before it could take hold. 

_I'm going to be seeing a lot of my old friends. I can't start feeling guilty every time I see them. I'll never get anything done._

"You wanted to see me, Potter?" McGonagall asked, interrupting Harry's chain of thought. "Come to put your name down for the Ball."

"Er, not quite," Harry said. "I mean, I always stay over Christmas, so..."

"Well? How can I help?"

"I want to help with the Ball," Harry said. 

"In what way?"

"Well, whatever you can think of. I mean, I'll be here anyway, and I won't be going to the Ball, so I may as well help."

"I see," McGonagall said. She pursed her lips together tightly, and regarded Harry critically. "No, Potter, you may _not_ help us. What you _may_ do, however, is find yourself a date for the evening, and enjoy yourself. I am aware of your desire to take on still more responsibility, and also of the apparent dissolution of your friendship with Miss Granger and the Weasleys - Oh, don't look so surprised. We teachers can hardly fail to hear the latest gossip when it is discussed so often in our classes - but I am adamant that you shall _all_ enjoy this Ball, and that includes you, Potter. Find yourself a date and take one night off from the worries of the world. I assure you that everyone else will, including the Headmaster."

Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower. He tried to make use of his free period by reading Colin's Arithmancy notes, but didn't make much headway. His mind kept going back to the announcement of the Ball. He couldn't shake the memory of the long look he had shared with Ginny. It had triggered a turmoil of emotions in him that he had sought to escape by volunteering for still more work.

In the end, he gave up on Arithmancy - he was beginning to suspect that it was beyond him - and instead went up to his room, collected his Firebolt, and made his way to the Quidditch pitch.

He climbed up into the stands, and sat down, luxuriating in the late-autumn sunshine. After fifteen minutes, he picked up his Firebolt and walked to the edge of the stands. He hadn't flown since before the incident at Halloween, and it was only dawning on him now how much he had missed it. Now, he thought, he would be able to soar through the air, his studies and extra-curricular commitments left behind on the ground. He swung one foot over the broom and prepared to kick off.

"Not working, Harry?"

Harry jumped, and nearly fell off his broom. He swung around, and found himself facing Cho Chang, who had apparently had the same idea that he had had. She was perched sidesaddle on her Nimbus 2001, one foot dangling beneath her, the other perched on her knee, her hands clasped on her ankle.

"Cho!" Harry barked. "Do you know how lucky you are I don't have my wand on me?"

"Could you have cast a spell anyway?" she asked, picking at a bit of fluff on her skirt.

Harry scowled. "That's not the point. Why'd you sneak up on me?"

"I tried not to," she said. "I called out a couple of times, and it's not like I came out of nowhere. It's hard to fly fast when you're sitting like this," she added.

"Still," Harry said. "Some other time I might have hexed you off your broom."

"Some other time I'll remember that," she said. "Not that you really need to tutor any Ravenclaw seventh years, Professor Potter." 

Harry scowled again.

"So, which subject will you teach when you get your NEWTs, Harry?"

"I'm not going to be a teacher," Harry said.

"So why get in all of this practise now?"

"It's not practise. Someone needs to make sure people can handle themselves."

"And the professors aren't doing that?"

"I don't have a problem with the way the professors are teaching. I can just help out a bit outside of the classroom."

Cho looked at Harry unmovingly.

"Is that a bad thing?" Harry asked coldly.

"No. I'm just wondering why you decided you should do it? You were already running the Dueling Club. Why take even more time out of your life?"

"Because I'm me," Harry said, frustrated at having to go through all this again. "Because people expect me to act a certain way, to do certain things. And part of that is having to lead. Having to set an example."

"An example?"

"Yes."

"That other people will follow?"

"Yes."

"So, you're encouraging your students to teach other people what they're learning?"

"I... What?" Harry asked.

"Well, if you're setting an example, it's only fair that other people follow it. So they should be teaching what they've learnt from you. Everyone could have a specialty. Your friend Josh Cochran could teach people how to speak American."

"I'm taking this seriously," Harry said, glaring at her. "Now, if you're just going to try and wind me up-"

"Why should I do that?" she asked, opening her arms wide. "I mean, that's not something you'd ever do, is it?"

"I suppose we're talking about my friends again, aren't we?" Harry asked, through gritted teeth.

"We can't be," Cho said. "Harry Potter doesn't have friends. He doesn't need friends. Friends would just slow him down. Friends would want him to explain everything."

"Yeah, you're right, they would," Harry snapped. "And I don't have time for that. Don't you get it? I'm learning how to fight Voldemort here. And I'm trying to help people along the way, too. Where do friends fit into that?"

"Your friends are the reason you're _fighting_," Cho snapped back, her voice suddenly as cold as ice. "You think I don't want Voldemort dead? He killed the man I loved. I can never have Cedric back. _Never._ Am I just supposed to sit here and watch you throw away what you have with your friends? Should I let Voldemort kill someone else as well? Because that's what he's doing, Harry. If you turn yourself into a machine, what life will you have left when Voldemort's gone?"

"What life do I have while he's still here?" Harry yelled. "Always worrying, never able to sleep properly in case I dream about him, always wondering who-"

Harry stopped cold, as though he'd run into a brick wall.

"I'm sorry about Cedric," he said quietly. "I'd do anything if it meant you could have him back, I really would. But I _can_ stop other people going through what you went through. And that's what's important."

With that, he spun on his heel and stalked off through the stands, disappearing down the stairs and leaving Cho to glare after him.

"One of these days, I'm going to make you see sense," she said to Harry's back.

*

Defence Against the Dark Arts kept Harry's mind busy. He squared off with Dean, Godric Gryffindor's sword in one hand as his roommate advanced slowly. Suddenly, Dean's heavy broadsword flicked out, and batted Harry's blade easily to one side. Harry found himself staring down the point of the sword less than five seconds after the duel had begun.

"Again?" Dean asked. It was the third time he had beaten Harry that lesson, and each fight had been progressively shorter than the one before.

"Yeah," Harry said firmly, bringing his sword back into a defensive stance. "I have to learn this."

"You have to focus, Harry," Dean said. "I went through the same thing when I started learning self-defence. I was all set to go out and try and nail those kids who beat up my brother. My sensei got it through to me eventually that what I was learning, well, I couldn't use it in anger."

"It must have been hard for you," Harry said distantly. "Seeing your brother hurt like that."

"Yeah, it was weird," Dean said, his eyes losing their focus and his movements becoming automatic as he began another round of sparring. "After about two months of training with sensei, I went to see my brother, because he came out of his coma, and he said he was sorry for getting me into that. Said it was his fault for putting me in that position and that it'd never happen again. But even after that, I kept training. I mean, you never know when it might come in useful, right?"

He stepped forward, his mind returning to the fight. He swung several times, and grunted in surprise as Harry blocked each one. Finally, he lashed out with a roundhouse kick that caught Harry's wrist, making him drop the sword in surprise.

"Still, your opponent might cheat," Dean said reflectively. "Doesn't hurt to learn how to do that, either."

"You'll have to teach me, teach me everything," Harry said, picking up the sword once more.

"Nah, I dunno about everything," Dean said. "I need to keep a few things in reserve."

"Everything, Dean," Harry said firmly. "I'll do anything, but I need to learn how to fight without my wand."

Dean looked at his friend carefully, then nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I'll teach you everything I can," he said. "Er..."

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing," Dean said, looking away. "It'll wait. Again?"

Harry nodded, and brought his sword up once more.

*

Transfiguration was almost impossible. Goyle and Blaise Zabini joined Harry, and even the brutish Goyle manage to make Harry look bad. Nearly six weeks after his encounter with the Boggart, Harry was still unable to do more than make his wand shoot a few sparks. Grimacing, he shoved his wand back into his robes, and concentrated on what Goyle and Blaise were doing, transforming their Siamese kitten into a fully grown cat, and then changing its fur colour, ear size, tail length and other characteristics.

_A bit left, lots right, left again back to the start and then _"Tempus Accelerus"_ with a snap of the wrist,_ Harry scribbled as Blaise confidently aged the kitten by seven years and four months. Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly after checking the age change with an instrument that looked similar to some of the many items scattered around Dumbledore's office.

"Not practising, Potter?" she asked.

"I don't really want to set anything on fire, Professor," Harry said.

"I'm sure that the kittens appreciate your restraint," McGonagall said. "However, it is imperative that you are able to perform the spell. Please take out your wand once more, and do try not to burn our subjects."

Harry reluctantly drew his wand, and flicked it left-right-left, before snapping his wrist and saying _"Tempus Accelerus."_

Nothing happened. To Harry's relief, there were no sparks, but neither was there any other reaction. Goyle sniggered openly as McGonagall waved her magical measuring device over the cat.

"No change," she announced to the now fully attentive class. Harry tried to ignore the scattered laughter as he flushed red. "Well, keep it up Potter," she continued. "I know that your condition isn't permanent. You _will_ be able to cast the spells required in this class by the end of this year. If not, then I shall have no choice but to fail you."

*

Harry had suspected that his passing his sixth year was dependent on regaining his magic, but to hear it spelt out to him so bluntly by Professor McGonagall had truly driven the point home. 

Hours after Transfiguration finished, he sat silently in the Common Room. He had worked with Seamus on the Shield Charm, gone over his homework, and was now half hidden in one of the plush armchairs, idly stroking Crookshanks as the huge ginger cat purred contentedly in his lap.

_Crookshanks still likes me. The others probably would as well, if I wasn't being so horrible to them. I could almost believe-_

Harry looked up as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open. His expression froze as Dean came through, extending his hand backward to help-

..._Ginny..._

-through after him. He said something Harry didn't hear, and Ginny giggled. Harry's stomach lurched at the sound, and he looked quickly away as Ginny turned towards him.

_I could almost believe. But I can't. Not for my own sake, or for anyone else's._

*

Ginny's face fell as she saw Harry turn hurriedly away from her, Dean noticed. He felt badly for his friend as she tried to cover what she was thinking. He'd overheard Daniella Spinnet saying that Ginny had given up on Harry, had taken a vow between herself and her friends that she wouldn't chase after him, wouldn't pine for him. If he wanted her out of his life, that's what he would have.

And suddenly Dean was privy to Ginny's secret.

It wasn't working.

_She loves him,_ he thought, staring at his friend intently for a moment. _And he's broken her heart, and she can't stop loving him. That's amazing._

Dean suddenly found a new respect for Harry and Ginny. Harry, for inspiring such a deep and unquestioning love in Ginny. Ginny, for being brave enough to show that love as unquestioningly as she felt it.

_It's__ hell for her,_ he realised. 

"Dean?"

He blinked, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked at Ginny.

"Sorry, just remembered a piece of homework I need to do this week," he said.

"Oh, that's nice," she grinned. "Glad to know you'd rather think about homework then the conversation you're having with me."

"What conversation? You're trying to get me to believe that Quidditch is better than football. It ain't gonna happen! Nothing can match seeing your star striker hitting an overhead volley into the top corner.  Not," he admitted, "that that sort of thing happens very often with West Ham."

"Striker? Overhead kick? Dean, can we go back to talking about normal things like Bludgers and Nimbuses please?"

Dean grinned. "Sure. Snob."

"Snob?"

"Yeah. You won't give football a chance."

"That doesn't make me a snob. I didn't even like Quidditch that much when I was younger. Sports are boring."

Dean looked at her in amusement.

"Now I know you're lying."

"What? They are. Try growing up in a house where your brothers talk about Quidditch all the time. See what happens to you."

"My brothers talked about West Ham all the time. I love sport."

"Well, you're..." She frowned. "You're a boy!"

"Oh, I see, not just a snob, but a sexist snob as well," Dean laughed. He dropped into a chair, and laughed still louder at the look on Ginny's face as she glared at him.

"Idiot," she said simply, before breaking into a giggle as she walked over to where Josh and Seamus were sat discussing the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. Still smiling, Dean got up to follow her.

_It's nice to see her smiling. I'm going to make sure she does more of that._

*

Dean and Harry faced off. They had agreed to split the session between sword fighting and Patronus casting, so that each would teach for half the lesson and learn for half the lesson.

"Try not to think of it as a weapon," Dean said. "It's just that you have a longer arm than normal. I know you've got good reflexes, and that sword isn't exactly heavy. Now, come on."

Harry approached cautiously, pacing himself, not eager to attack Dean and have him take offence. Dean's prowess with a sword had become almost legendary among the Gryffindors thanks to his regular demolition of almost everyone during Defence Against the Dark Arts and the Dueling Club. Only Professor Skeeter seemed able to best him, and she readily admitted that she had been learning fencing almost before Dean was able to talk.

So Harry was very careful as he approached his friend. A feint to his right was followed by him sweeping his sword in low and from his left. Dean brought his broadsword down in a deceptively quick block, and Harry felt Godric Gryffindor's sword shudder in his grip. Dean grinned in a way that brought Harry no comfort at all. But still he moved forward, flicking out his lighter sword at different, random angles, making Dean do a lot of work to try and tire him out.

"Good, good," Dean said, barely breathing hard. "That's the way. Keep me guessing. Come on!"

Harry came forward once more, growing in confidence as he lashed out at Dean over and over.

"I know you can do better than that!" Dean barked. "Come _on_, Harry. Show me what you did to that bloody Basilisk!"

Harry lunged forwards, thrusting with his sword, aiming to miss Dean cleanly, but still get past his guard. Dean had other ideas, batting Harry's blade with his own and knocking Harry off balance. Harry stumbled and tumbled, before crashing face first to the ground as Dean danced backwards out of range.

Harry felt the tip of Dean's sword resting lightly on the back of his neck. He grimaced, and slowly climbed upright. Dean watched him carefully.

"Lesson one: Ignore anything that your opponent says to you. Chances are, they're just trying to put you off."

"Right."

"Now, come at me again."

An hour later, they collapsed onto the floor, sweating and panting.

"Patronus, then?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he gasped. "Just... Just a minute. Blimey, Harry, I thought you were still recovering?"

"I am," Harry said.

"Then you're in pretty good shape for a man just off his sick bed. Fancy sharing your secret?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. There was no secret. He'd just been pushing himself hard, far harder than Madam Pomfrey would have wanted. He felt ready to fall asleep as it was, and now he had an hour of hard spellwork ahead of him.

He stood up, his joints protesting as he rose shakily to his feet.

_The Prefect's bathroom_, he decided, as Dean turned his Gladius sword back into his wand. _After this, I'm going to go and soak for hours. Maybe longer._

"So," Dean said, grinning a little nervously. "The Patronus charm?"

"Yeah," Harry said, sheathing Godric Gryffindor's sword in the scabbard that Professor Skeeter had supplied.

"Right, so, what's your problem with the charm?"

"Er, I dunno," Dean admitted, sighing. "I've never been able to do anything with it."

"Well, saying the spell isn't hard," Harry said. "Usually people struggle with finding the right thought to focus on. What about you?"

"I..." This time it was Dean who shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, you always say that we need to focus on one single, shiningly happy moment, but it's hard."

"Really?" Harry was surprised. He had any number of truly happy moments since coming to Hogwarts, and now when he cast a Patronus, he didn't have to think at all hard to come with a memory strong enough to power the spell.

"Don't get me wrong," Dean said. "I'm happy here, life is good, my family is great, but it ain't like there's that many of us who can cast Patronuses. Why d'you reckon some people can do it?"

Harry thought of the other students who could cast Patronuses. They were mostly Gryffindors, although Ernie and Hannah from Hufflepuff could cast the spell, as could Cho, a Ravenclaw.

"Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Lavender, Ginny and Neville," Harry said. "And Ernie, Hannah and Cho."

Dean pulled a face. "Hannah and Ernie? Well, I'm not surprised, I suppose."

"You think it has to do with going out with someone?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Nah, not that, not really," Dean said. "Think about it though. Seamus and Lavender have been together a long time. So have Neville and Daniella. Ron and Hermione, well, we _all_ knew how they felt before _they_ did." 

"Ernie and Hannah are perfect for each other," he went on, with only a slight hint of bitterness in his voice. "Cho... well, she's a Ravenclaw, probably better suited to controlling her emotions. She can remember Cedric for the good things, not just the bad things."

"You think that being in love helps with casting the Patronus?" Harry asked, unable to keep a dubious tone from his words.

"I just think that it probably helps, you know? It's the one thing that's supposed to bring unconditional happiness. Don't get me wrong, I go mad when Gryffindor wins the House Cup or the Quidditch Cup or whatever, but a few days later, everything's back to normal. Maybe you need that moment of life changing happiness to get you moving. I mean, what were you thinking about the first time you cast your Patronus?"

Harry thought back to his third year.

"First time I got anything, er, I was thinking about... oh, I remember. It was when Hagrid showed up and told me I was coming to Hogwarts. I didn't care about anything else. Just knowing that I was going to get away from the Dursleys. That was a good memory."

"I don't have anything like that to draw on," Dean said. "I love my family. I was pretty miserable leaving them that first time, even if I was excited about coming here."

"Do you come from a big family?" Harry asked. He couldn't remember ever having asked Dean that before.

"Yeah, me, my four older brothers, Mum and Dad," Dean said.

"That must be nice," Harry said. "There's got to be a lot of good memories there."

Dean shrugged. "It was just pretty typical, really. You know what it's like. Mum was always yelling at one of us, Dad was always working, one of my brothers was usually in trouble over something, but we were always loved, you know?"

Harry didn't, but he didn't say anything.

"What about birthdays? Christmases? Sports day? Did you ever put any of your art in for a competition?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, all that stuff is nice, you know?" Dean said. "But it's just ordinary. Nothing major ever seems to happen to me, you know? I'm just in the background. I don't do anything important or vital, never have any major highs or lows. Just ordinary, boring Dean."

"No, you're not," Harry said fiercely. "You're a good friend, you make people laugh and everyone loves your art. Don't put yourself down, Dean. Start doing that and you might as well just hand yourself over to Voldemort now."

Dean stared at the floor for a time, and then nodded once, sharply.

"You're right," he said. "I do let myself dwell on the bad things a bit too much."

"So do I," Harry said. "But it's a lot nicer to think about all the good things. Look at it this way, your brother is never going to be in a coma again."

Dean laughed, and shrugged.

"I guess not. I can't believe I told everyone that."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Look at me and Neville," Harry said. "We don't exactly have perfect families."

"No, I suppose not. I think Neville'll be a lot happier when he moves out of home for good."

"Yeah, maybe. Now, what makes you happy? We're staying here until you put out a Patronus."

"Sure you want to wait that long?" Dean asked.

"I promised I'd help you with your Patronus. That's what I'll do," Harry said, his eyelids suddenly feeling very heavy. He leant against the wall, bracing himself for another wave of exhaustion.

"Okay, er, I can think of one thing that would make me happy."

"What is it?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.

"Well, er, I know it's not been very long," Dean said. "Thing is, I think it'd really help, and it's not like I'm going to push it. We're friends, that's all."

He stopped, and looked at Harry as though expecting him to say something.

"Er... come again?" Harry asked.

Dean sighed, and then: "Do you mind if I ask Ginny to the ball?"

_To be continued..._

**Eric2:** No-one in the Great Hall would be daft enough to tell Harry what Ginny said, so he's still in the dark.

**Fair--Faye-Kahlan:** "Inconceivable" was indeed taken from _The Princess Bride_. Congrats on being the one of _very_ few people to pick up on it :-D

**Gryffindor-girl1:** If Harry ever decides to try and make up, he'll be getting help from people who had a lot to apologise for...

**Aggiebell****:** For his own reasons, Harry doesn't mind Cho seeing things like that. You'll find out why in due course.

Does Harry realise the irony of what he's doing? You'll see as the story unfolds.

Ron's forgiveness will be very hard to achieve, you're right, and you might be surprised how it's eventually won...

Cho will learn a great deal about Harry over the next few chapters. Yep, she's insightful. She's a Ravenclaw, after all ;-)


	22. Chapter Twenty One: The Aftermath

**__**

**_Chapter Twenty-One: The Aftermath_**

Harry lay in bed a week later, completely wide-awake. He'd just had a long bath in the Prefect's bathroom in which he'd replayed the last few minutes of his practise with Dean the week before.

_"Do you mind if I ask Ginny to the ball?"_

_Harry had stared at him for a long moment in shock. _

_"What?"_

_"Do you mind if I ask Ginny to the ball?"_

_"You want to ask Ginny to the ball?"_

_"Yeah. I mean, she's really hurting right now. I want to do something to cheer her up, and I know we'll have fun if we go together. We're good friends, you know?"_

_And then someone else, someone using Harry's mouth and Harry's voice, because it certainly wasn't Harry himself, replied:_

_"You don't have to ask me. I broke up with Ginny. No one needs to ask my permission to ask her out. She can do what she wants."_

_"Great! I'll ask her, then. Thanks, Harry."_

_"You don't need to thank me," he laughed, although it had sounded to him more like a duck being strangled. Dean hadn't noticed._

_No, no need to thank me, _Harry thought as he stared up at the canopy of his bed. Every night since then, he had lain awake for hours, thinking uncomfortable thoughts about Dean and Ginny.

_Since when has Dean liked Ginny? _

_Well, he _was_ going to ask her out last year. _

_This is a bit much to take in. I never even thought he might still like her. He says they're just friends. Can I believe that? What business is it of mine, anyway?_

_I can't trust anyone. _

_I guess if I ever wondered about that, now I know. I can't trust anyone. I know I'm right._

_I guess I know who it was that Trelawney predicted Dean would stab in the back now._

Rolling over, he thumped his pillow several times, and settled down to a fitful sleep.

*

"My lord!"

Harry stood quietly by, watching once more from the shadows as Voldemort's Death Eaters stood before him.

"So, once again you will ride out, Macnair. Tell me this, will you find for me what I seek this time?"

"We shall try, my lord," Macnair replied thickly. Harry recognised the tall, bulky Death Eater as being the man who had been selected to execute Buckbeak the Hippogriff nearly three years before. Harry wondered absently where Buckbeak was now.

"You will try," Voldemort repeated. "You are too stupid to lie to me, Macnair, you lack the imagination for anything beyond anticipation of killing. I am grateful that you will not be leading the assault tonight."

"No, my lord."

"Rather, I have a newcomer to the ranks, one who is placed most valuably in wizarding society. A man with real value to me, and not some lackey in an insignificant role in an insignificant department of the Ministry. No, our new friend here has a _very_ important role. Far, far more important than any of you. Our friend here is in the inner circle of Minister Fudge and is, you might say, a _deeply_ trusted colleague."

There were a few laughs at this, and Harry inched forward, trying to see who the newcomer was. He had to warn Dumbledore, as soon as he awoke. In the meantime, he could take advantage of his invisible presence. He slipped closer to the light, but still stayed in the shadows. He was afraid of moving into the light, as though only the shadows were what kept Voldemort and the Death Eaters from realising his presence.

Leaning around a column, Harry tried to identify the Death Eaters, but they were all masked. Instead, he looked toward the newcomer, trying to identify him instead. The newcomer had his back to Harry, but there was something familiar about his wavy blonde hair. Harry tried to place the man, but his line of thought was interrupted when Voldemort rose from his chair, and stepped down from the raised plinth on which it stood. Harry almost smiled as the Death Eaters tried to move away from Voldemort without being noticed, only to have his serpentine features contort into a sneer that made Harry and several of the Death Eaters shudder. Only the newcomer stood still, his stance serene and confident, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"Traditionally, there is a ceremony for the welcoming of a new Death Eater to our ranks," Voldemort told the blonde man, who nodded as though he knew all the details and was happy with the arrangement. One or two of the Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably. Harry pulled slightly further back into the shadows, uncomfortably aware that Voldemort could probably find a way to hurt him, even in a dream.

"The ceremony impresses upon candidates the seriousness of the choice they are making, the glory of being a Death Eater for Lord Voldemort," Voldemort continued, prowling around the blonde man, who stood motionless as he was studied carefully by the evil wizard.

"Your arm," Voldemort hissed. The blonde man slowly unclasped his hands and brought his right arm out in front of him, rolling back the sleeve of his robe to present his bare forearm.

Voldemort turned away, and raised his hands, the sleeves of his own robes falling away to reveal his skinny, pale, scaly arms. His black wand was held aloft, seemingly absorbing all the light around it.

_"Gladius!"_

Voldemort spun, the dagger in his hand plunging down at the blonde man's unprotected arm. Harry gasped as it drove home, piercing the man's flesh easily, and yet the blonde man didn't even flinch.

Voldemort withdrew the dagger, and it disappeared in a puff of steam. Belatedly, Harry realised that it hadn't gone through the man's arm, rather that it had stopped short. Blood had welled up quickly, and was now spilling from the man's arm, but, as far as Harry could tell, he didn't react in any way.

Voldemort watched the man dispassionately, and then reached out one scaly hand and touched the flowing blood. Several Death Eaters gave up all pretence and stepped backward sharply.

The blonde man reacted as well. As Voldemort kept his finger on the man's arm, he shook violently, as though he was having a seizure.

"As the blood of the enemy will be spilled to bring me the power of Morgan Le Fay, so the blood of the loyal is spilled to bind you to me," Voldemort intoned.

For Harry, it seemed as though an age passed. His scar began to throb, quickly reaching an almost unbearable level of pain. He couldn't understand why he hadn't already woken up.

_"Eternus Nox!"_ Suddenly, Voldemort pulled his hand away, and the pain Harry was feeling suddenly multiplied many times over. He dropped to his hands and knees, half in and half out of the shadows, his only legible thought was that the blonde man now had a black mark on his forearm.

And then the last of Harry's strength left him, and he collapsed to the floor.

*

Harry snapped upright in his bed, his covers twisted and tangled around his legs. He struggled free of the sweat-soaked sheets, and dashed from his dormitory and out of Gryffindor Tower.

As the Fat Lady swung closed behind him, he slumped against a wall. He felt as though he'd run a marathon, as though he'd spent an entire double lesson being used by Professor Skeeter for sparring practise.

"Out of bed, Potter? Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Harry turned slowly. Professor Snape stood behind him, smiling in revolting glee at having caught Harry out of bounds.

"Professor," Harry said, pushing himself upright. "I had another dream, another dream about Voldemort."

"Of course," Snape sneered. "Famous Harry Potter has a bad dream, so it's perfectly acceptable for him to be out of bounds."

"He was making a new Death Eater," Harry persisted. "He stabbed him in the arm, and put a spell on the cut and the man had the Dark Mark on his arm."

Harry was panting quickly, trying to fight the fatigue that was threatening to fold him up like a cheap set of robes.

Snape looked at him curiously, then snapped out a hand and grabbed Harry's shoulder.

"Come with me, Potter," he said, hauling Harry easily upright and marching him away from the Fat Lady's portrait. Snape marched Harry quickly through the corridors, freezing two of the moving staircases with a spell that Harry absently remembered, in case he ever got his magic back.

Snape brought them to a halt beside the familiar stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Toffee Penny," Snape snarled. The gargoyle sprung to life, turning around to reveal the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Snape and Harry stepped onto the moving stairs and were carried upwards. Harry found himself wondering whether they would be waking Dumbledore up, or if the Headmaster worked through the night.

As soon as they stepped off the staircase, the door to Dumbledore's office swung open, and for a split second Harry thought that Dumbledore had somehow known they were coming. But it was Professor McGonagall who held the door, a faint look of surprise crossing her features before they settled into their usual stern appearance.

"Severus, Potter," she said. "You wish to see the Headmaster?"

"Indeed," Snape said. "Potter here has been having another of his useful dreams."

"Well, you had better come in then. Dumbledore is meeting with another of our colleagues, but I'm sure that they won't object to being interrupted."

McGonagall stepped aside to let them enter. She departed in their wake, but Harry barely noticed.

"Remus!"

He seemed to cross the room in less time than it took to wave a wand. He embraced Lupin warmly, feeling for the first time in weeks as though things were beginning to look up. 

Letting go, he felt slightly embarrassed at the way he had greeted Lupin, as the two weren't normally so open towards one another. A single look at the warm smile on Lupin's face squashed any fears that he may have felt, however.

"How may we be of assistance, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I... I had another dream, sir. Sorry, I shouldn't have-" he half turned to look back at Lupin.

"Quite understandable," Dumbledore said. "Now, you dreamt of Voldemort?"

The dream was already slipping from Harry's memory, and he cursed himself for the time he had wasted in greeting Remus.

"He was..." Harry's face contorted with the effort of recollection. "He was talking to a group of Death Eaters. He said that they shouldn't fail him again, that they had to bring back what he wanted this time. Then someone new came in. Voldemort said he was someone important, someone in Minister Fudge's inner circle."

"What did he look like?" Snape snapped. Harry had almost forgotten that the Potions master was there.

"He had wavy blonde hair," Harry said. "That's all I saw. He always had his back to me."

Snape made a derisive, disbelieving noise that earned him a sharp look from Lupin.

"What happened next?" Dumbledore said.

Harry recounted the ceremony that Voldemort and the blonde man had gone through. Snape hissed as he described how the new Death Eater had shook violently as Voldemort pressed his fingers against the knife wound.

"True," he muttered. "And most likely more painful since his return then the first time around."

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, wanting to ask what role the former Death Eater was playing in the conflict with Voldemort's forces. But Dumbledore called his attention back to his dream.

"What happened after that, Harry?"

"Voldemort said something about blood being what bound a Death Eater to him. And he said he needed the blood of the enemy to get Le Fay's power, as well."

He looked at Dumbledore, who said nothing. Harry continued.

"The new Death Eater collapsed, and I blacked out. That's when I woke up," he finished, wishing that there were more.

"Very well. I shall alert the proper people of this new information. Thank you, Harry. Severus, I hate to impose further, but could you see Harry back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Snape nodded once, no emotion visible on his face. He walked to the door, and held it open. Harry nodded briefly to Dumbledore and trudged wearily from the room.

The door shut behind them, but Lupin waited until the sound of the moving stairs had faded before turning to Dumbledore.

"He looks dreadful, Albus."

"He's not sleeping, he's working harder than anyone, and he's taking no time to relax," Dumbledore replied, heavily. "What can we do? In time, he will come to realise that he can't do everything. In the meantime, he has effectively abandoned his friends, and is keeping himself at arms length from everyone."

"He didn't even ask how Sirius is," Remus realised.

"I am sure that it was not deliberate," Dumbledore declared. "Harry is under a great deal of stress this year. Even by his own elevated standards, he has had a particularly eventful term."

"Why is he shutting out his friends?"

"Ah, well, as to that, only Harry can answer your question," Dumbledore said unhappily. "Since he was hospitalised on Halloween, as you know, Harry has withdrawn from everyone. While superficially he is filling the role of the Boy Who Lived, to those who know him, he has changed markedly. It would appear that his encounter with the Boggart affected him more than he realised. Perhaps it is a consequence of losing his powers, perhaps Harry's worst fear is no longer an encounter with a Dementor, perhaps he simply believes that what he is doing is the best thing for everyone."

"You don't believe that," Remus stated.

"No, no I do not," Dumbledore said. "However, I spend my time chasing around the country, working with our colleagues, conducting research into the Temple of Le Fay... I have to trust that Harry will come to no harm here. The members of the faculty are watching him, Remus. It would be... unfortunate if more ill were to befall him. Believe me, we are aware of the problems Harry is facing, but if anyone were to try and interfere, how do you think he would react?"

"Badly," Remus sighed. "He's as stubborn as James was. Worse, maybe. It's all the fault of those Dursleys. Harry's far too independent for his own good, but how else could he have survived with those worthless Muggles?"

"It is unfortunate that Harry has had to endure the Dursley's care for so long," Dumbledore agreed. "Nonetheless, it has been necessary, Remus. As you are doubtless aware, Harry will turn seventeen years of age next summer. He will be an adult, and then he may leave his relatives behind."

"Does he know that?"

"I do not believe so."

"Would telling him make any difference?"

"I do not believe so."

Remus frowned. "I hate seeing him like this, Albus. He's like a nephew, family, really. Seeing him torture himself..."

"Torture? No, Remus, there I think you may be wrong," Dumbledore said. "Harry is certainly misguided, yes, but he is not torturing himself. In fact, I would say that by setting himself apart from his friends in this way, he believes that he is saving himself from further torture."

And with that pronouncement, Dumbledore pressed his fingers together, forming a pyramid over the top of which he stared, his gaze resting somewhere in the the middle distance.

*

Hermione and Ron sat together at breakfast the next morning. Ron filled Hermione in on Harry's dash from the dormitory the previous night.

"Up and gone," he said. "Must have been another dream."

"I wish there were something we could do," Hermione said, stabbing a sausage. "But if Harry won't confide in us, Ron, then I don't see how we can force him to."

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, slightly surprised at Hermione's change of tune. "Besides, it's not like he's worth worrying about when he's acting like this. Anyway, I'm worried about Ginny. She didn't sleep well last night. Daniella Spinnet told me. Says she was talking about Harry, and woke up loads of times. She really needs to get over him, Hermione."

"And I don't think there's anything we can do about that, either," Hermione said. "Except to be there for her if she needs our help."

Ron huffed loudly. "At least today isn't too bad. Thursdays: Herbology and Dark Arts. We finish early, too."

"And I suppose you'll be going straight to the library after Defence, won't you?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione!" Ron grinned, rising to the bait happily. "You make it sound like I never do any work. I work very hard, thank you."

"It wouldn't hurt you to work harder," Hermione said.

"I wouldn't bet on that, Hermione," Seamus said, taking a seat opposite his friends and holding out that morning's Daily Prophet. "Seems like the only safe thing to be these days is a complete eejit."

Hermione and Ron stared in shock at the three pictures on the front page of the Prophet. Wizards milled around aimlessly as medics carried bodies from the wreckage of three separate, destroyed buildings. Hermione's eyes drifted downwards to the story beneath the pictures

**MORE ACADEMIC ATTACKS**

**_The Dark Mark was seen once more last night, _****writes our exclusive reporter Rita Skeeter. _Three wizarding homes were attacked, and each was the home of a noted academic wizard._**

****

**_Little Whinging in _****_Surrey_****_ was home to noted medieval expert Giorgio Marini. Marini, who chose to live in Little Whinging because of its closeness to a medieval burial site, was killed when dark wizards invaded his home. His cook survived the attack, but the house was completely destroyed._**

****

**_Professor Daniel Connolly, expert in ancient runes, was tortured by hooded wizards. The dark wizards murdered Professor Connolly's wife before him. The Connolly's house elf witnessed the attacks, and has been placed under protection in case it is required to give testimony regarding the attacks. Professor Connolly, who lived in Arkley, _****_North London_****_, has been taken to St. Mungo's for care, where he has been listed as critical._**

****

**_Doctor Solomon Cassius was a healer at St. Mungo's, and an enthusiastic amateur in the world of Arthurian legend. It is believed that the learned Doctor Cassius, who lived alone, was also killed by dark wizards. The Dark Mark hung over the remains of his home in _****_Blackburn_****_, _****_Lancashire_****_, and his body was excavated from the ruins in the early hours of this morning._**

****

**The Daily Prophet_ calls for an immediate capture of these dark wizards, who clearly pose a threat to all..._**

Hermione set the paper aside, and looked at Ron and Seamus.

"More attacks, and just like last time, Harry had a dream the night they were carried out."

Seamus shook his head.

"This is seriously weird," he said. "I know Harry's always been, well, special, but it's like he's turning into some kind of alarm system."

"Doesn't seem to be working very well," Ron said, staring moodily at the picture of Professor Connolly's destroyed house. "Didn't help these people, did it?"

"Here he comes," Hermione said.

Harry entered the Great Hall, looking as though every step was an effort. He nodded to one or two people as they greeted him, and took a place at the end of the table, separate from anyone else. Hermione squinted at him. It wasn't hard to see the heavy bags under his eyes, nor how pale he looked.

"Idiot," she murmured. Ron looked at her, and then followed her gaze to Harry.

"Yeah," he agreed. "He's daft. He's pushing himself way too hard, won't stop to take a break. But what can we do? It's his choice. You know it's not worth trying to get through to him. He's a stubborn idiot."

*

Harry could feel someone's gaze on him, and he looked up just in time to see Ron and Hermione looking away. He looked back down at his scrambled eggs, only for a shadow to fall across them. Looking back up, he blinked to see Draco Malfoy standing before him. Even after three months, it still felt unusual to see Malfoy in the blue edged robes of Ravenclaw, and without Crabbe and Goyle standing menacingly behind him.

"Harry, are you feeling okay?" Draco asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Harry replied. He had mastered the exact tone necessary to cut dead any further enquiries regarding his health. Draco looked at him dubiously, but didn't say anything. "Can I help you with anything? A personal session or anything?" Harry went on.

"Hardly," Draco laughed. "I _am_ in Ravenclaw, after all," he added with a touch of his old arrogance. "No, I'm here to ask when you'll be returning to teach the Dueling Club. There's something missing when you're not there to teach us."

Harry was momentarily left speechless, but recovered quickly.

"I won't be teaching at the Dueling Club until I can cast spells again," he said. "Ron, Dean, Hermione and Professor Skeeter are, I'm sure you'll agree, more than able to deal with things in my absence."

"They," Draco said earnestly, "are not you. They don't have your experience in fighting the Dark Arts."

"Don't you listen?" Harry snapped. "I said I'm not doing it. If you want my help, sign up for a private session. I'm not helping with the Dueling Club anymore. In case you didn't hear, I can't do magic!"

Harry stood abruptly, and stormed out of the Great Hall. He was furious, both at Malfoy for his persistence, and with himself for losing his temper over such a small incident. He dropped onto a bench, and scraped his hands back through his hair.

"Hello there, young Harry."

Harry looked up. "Hello Nick," he replied dully.

Nearly Headless Nick settled into a seated pose next to Harry.

"You don't look well, Harry."

"I'm f- I'm not sleeping well," Harry admitted. "Nick, do ghosts sleep?"

"Well, it _is_ difficult," Nearly Headless Nick said cheerfully. "After all, when your eyelids are transparent, it makes sleeping difficult. The best one can hope for is to find an absolutely pitch black room. Of course, Peeves has a habit of arriving after only a few minutes and setting off fireworks and so on. Most vexing. One rather learns to do without much sleep after the first few centuries. Some ghosts have no need of it at all - the Bloody Baron, for one."

"Maybe I should ask him for lessons," Harry said thickly, his head hanging low.

"I suggest you get some fresh air," Nick said. "I was just going to float outside for a few minutes anyway. Care to join me?"

"Er, yeah, okay," Harry said, standing up. He looked at his watch. There was still twenty minutes before he had to go to Herbology, and he could head that way as he walked with Nick. Shouldering his bag, he trudged after Nick as the ghost chatted amiably about the latest prank that Peeves had played on the Fat Friar. Harry listened vaguely, hearing some of what Nick was saying, but not all of it. Only when they walked out of the West Door and into the bright winter sun did Harry perk up.

He found himself relaxing as they made their way across the lawns and through the rose gardens. Harry breathed in the perpetual aroma of the ever-blooming flowers and his interest in Nick's conversation increased. He smiled slightly as Nick recounted the Bloody Baron's latest efforts in his centuries old quest to win over the Grey Lady. By the time they approached the other sixth years queuing for Herbology, Harry's mood was much lighter.

"Thanks, Nick," he said, stifling a yawn. "That actually helped quite a bit."

"You're very welcome," Nick said graciously. "Being a house ghost entails certain responsibilities, after all. Taking care of our young students is one of the more pleasant ones. And taking the time to remind the more serious minded among those students to take the time to, ah, smell the roses is barely _even_ a responsibility. Now, I must be off, Harry. I believe one of your friends wants a word.

Harry watched Nick float away before turning around. He was half expecting Hermione to be there, ready to nag him about missing sleep. 

But it wasn't Hermione. 

It was Cho.

Again.

Harry felt his good mood start to slip away.

"If you're here to try and wind me up again-"

"I'm not," she interrupted.

"What do you want, then?" Harry asked, his tone of voice betraying an aggressiveness that even surprised him.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Your diary wouldn't be much fun, would it?" she asked. "Scar hurts, bad dream, no sleep, fight Voldemort. Pretty boring, really. I don't see any books about you selling very many copies."

Harry scowled at her. "I thought you weren't here to wind me up."

"I'm not. I was trying this thing called 'humour'. You may have heard of it," Cho said.

"Why are you here, if not to wind me up?" Harry went on, ignoring her.

"Well, I'm _here_ because I have Care of Magical Creatures in about five minutes," Cho said. "If you mean 'Why am I talking to you. . ?'" she looked at Harry expectantly, but he didn't say anything, instead just fixing her with a stern, unamused glare.

"Fine. Harry, did I hear right? Has McGonagall ordered you to go to the Hogmanay Ball?"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said. "She won't let me help out, and she says that everyone has to enjoy themselves. Including me."

"Well, heaven forbid that the saviour of the world should have any fun," Cho said. "You make it sound like it's some horrible fate."

"Look, you're a girl, it's easy for you," Harry said. "You just have to wait until someone asks."

"Oh really?" Cho smiled, her eyes twinkling in genuine amusement. "In case you didn't notice, Harry, there are a lot of girls who're queuing up to ask you to the Ball, now that you're single again."

"What? Don't be stupid," he said. "No one's asked me."

"Stupid, am I? I'm a Ravenclaw, Harry. The girls are watching this, believe me."

Harry looked around. There did seem to be a lot of people watching him and Cho talking. He opened his mouth to reply, although he didn't have a clue what he was going to say. Fortunately, at that moment Hagrid came out of his hut and started calling the seventh year Magical Creatures class around him.

"Well, I'd best be off," Cho said. "I'll see you later. Oh, and Harry?"

"What?"

"I want to know how many girls ask you to the Ball by dinnertime tonight. Keep count, okay?"

With that, she dashed off to catch up with the rest of her class. Belatedly, Harry realised that the sixth years were filing into the greenhouse, and he had to hurry to catch up.

*

By the time dinner came around, Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Beginning with Parvati Patil as he sprinted through the greenhouse door that morning, no less than fourteen girls had asked if he was going to the Ball, and if so, did he have a date? After the initial horror had worn off, he'd stammered through a reply to Parvati about not being sure if he was even going.

By the time Padma Patil cornered him outside Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry had his reply memorised. He explained to her that he wasn't sure if he'd be going, that he was very flattered by her interest, and that he'd certainly let her know by the end of the day one way or the other.

The problem was, Padma was only the sixth girl to ask him.

Harry had thought it odd that the entire third year Hufflepuff girls dormitory had booked a study session with him on the Patronus charm. That they had all, at various points during the session, with varying degrees of discretion, asked him to the Ball, had left him feeling downright alarmed. He'd promptly cancelled his next session -Potions with four fifth year girls from Ravenclaw - and deputed Dean to cover the Dark Arts study session he'd arranged with Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Lisa Turpin and Su Li.

He made his way cautiously to the Great Hall, only being cornered once by Katie Bell, who only wanted to check he was alright to play against Hufflepuff that Saturday. When he walked through the doors of the Great Hall, however, he was besieged. Cho had at least been wrong about there being an orderly queue. He was mobbed by at least a dozen girls of all ages, and only escaped when Seamus and Josh grabbed him and pulled him from the centre of the throng.

His impromptu minders kept the mob from bothering him during dinner, and Harry kept his head down until the last of the plum pudding disappeared at the same time that Josh and Seamus did. Harry was almost the last one in the Hall, only a few stragglers remained, chatting about nothing very much.

"So, what was the final score?"

Harry didn't even look up.

"Fourteen before I got in here, then I pretty much lost count."

"I did tell you," Cho said, grinning as she sat down beside him, her back to the table so she could see his face. "Now, it's easy being a girl, is it?"

"Why today? Why did they all do it today?" Harry asked irritably.

"Because last night Ginny agreed to go to the Ball with Dean Thomas," Cho said, looking sympathetically at him.

"Ah."

"Yes."

"So it's open season on famous Harry Potter, is it?" Harry asked. Surprisingly, he found the thought didn't bother him that much. It was amazing how desensitized you could become to something when you were exposed to it so many times in such a short period.

"I'm afraid so. At least it's not _just_ because you're famous this time," Cho said, her eyes sparkling again.

"Did you set this up?" he asked.

"Oh no," she said. "I just... Keep up with the gossip. That's all. You've become very popular since you've started your study sessions. Everyone is very impressed at how generous you are with your time."

Harry blinked.

"Anyway, I take it by now you've decided whether or not you're going to the Ball?"

"I have to," Harry said.

"And who will you be taking?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't even _know_ half the girls who asked me today. How am I supposed to decide who to take? I mean, whoever I go with, I want them to have a good time. I learnt my lesson with Parvati two years ago. Whoever I'm taking, I'll go all out to give them the time of their life. Just because I'll be hating it..."

"So you don't have a date?" Cho asked.

"No. Still, I have about twenty to choose from, so..."

"Well I counted fifteen girls waiting to ask you when you came in," she said. "And you say fourteen more asked before you came in?"

"Yeah," Harry said listlessly. "Suppose I should make a start on choosing."

"What if someone else asked you?" Cho asked. "Someone who wasn't expecting the time of her life, who didn't need you to be Harry the Hero?"

"Like who?" Harry asked. "The only girls who know me that well are Hermione and Ginny. And even if... Well, they've got dates already."

"What about me?" Cho asked. "Would you go with me?"

"You've got a date," Harry protested without thinking. "You're seeing Michael Corner."

"I was," Cho said. "We broke up last month."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling stupid. For the second time that day, he was left speechless.

"Well, think about it, okay?" Cho said, getting up to leave. "Like I said, I don't expect you to be some incredible date who'll sweep me off my feet. I just don't want to go with anyone, really, so if you're going to be miserable, and I'm going to be miserable, why don't we both be miserable together? You don't have to give me an answer now."

She went to walk away, but Harry reached out and caught her wrist.

"Cho, if you'll go with me, I'd like to take you to the Hogmanay Ball. I promise you that it'll be a miserable night, but at least we won't be messing it up for anyone else."

Cho grinned. "How can I turn down an invite as heartfelt as that? Of course I'll go with you."

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter Twenty Two: Gryffindor vs Huffle...

**_Chapter Twenty-Two: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff_**

Harry sat on one side of the dressing room, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor as Ron gave his pre-match talk. The rest of the team, including the three reserves, was lined up in a row along the opposite wall, their faces showing various emotions. 

Ginny seemed absolutely calm. Harry had noticed Dean's hand resting lightly on hers, and quickly averted his eyes.

Seamus and Josh looked jittery but, along with Dean, they were trading banter back and forth and ignoring Ron's jittery, stumbling team talk.

Katie and Vickie were watching Ron intently, but from the way their expressions were glazed over, Harry felt certain that they weren't taking anything in, either. Harry felt bad for Ron. It was his first match as sole captain in charge of the Gryffindor house team, and it was clear that he wanted to make a good impression.

Professor Flitwick, who was refereeing the match, rapped on the dressing room door, squeaked "Time!" in his high pitched voice, and went to collect the Hufflepuffs.

Ron's voice dried up, and he stood frozen in the middle of the dressing room, his mouth opening and shutting silently. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he raised an eyebrow fractionally at Dean, who shifted his attention from Ginny to Ron.

"Ron, you're going to be great," Dean said enthusiastically. "You know more about Quidditch then anyone, so why worry?"

Ron nodded mutely, before turning sharply and walking out of the dressing room. The others followed, the reserves heading off for their place in the stands. Harry was the last to leave, double checking the bindings on his pads before walking out to the players' tunnel.

"Harry."

He turned, and felt his stomach flip as he realised that it was Ginny who had spoken.

"Hi Ginny," Harry said cautiously.

"I saw what you did back there," she said, her eyes fixed on a point above and behind his head. "You're not exactly my favourite person right now, but thank you for doing that for Ron."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself to. He barely heard what Ginny was saying, instead he found that his mind was elsewhere.

_Wouldn't it be great to kiss her now? Just think how good she feels, how right she feels against you. She couldn't care less about Dean. Just kiss her!_

"It was nothing," Harry said. "He's every bit as good as Dean said. We all know it. He just needs to believe in himself, that's all."

"Strange to hear you say that," she replied, he eyes slowly drifting down to meet his. Harry felt pinned to the spot by her intense gaze. "After all, you're the only person that you have faith in, aren't you?"

"That's right," Harry said, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "Just me. I won't put anyone else at risk."

"What risk?" Ginny said, her voice suddenly heated. "The risk of being your friends? The risk of being targets? We didn't care, we never did, we never would have."

Harry looked at her, shifting uncomfortably.

"It wasn't fair of me to make you targets for Voldemort," he said, eventually. "Just accept it. Move on. Dean's a nice guy-"

"Harry Potter, don't you even _think_ of finishing that sentence. It may have escaped your attention, living in your own little world like you do, but Dean and I are just friends. Some people take more than a few weeks to get over having their heart broken."

She stormed off, shouldering him aside as she made her way towards the pitch. Harry stood frozen for a moment.

"So I'm told," he muttered, before turning and trudging up the tunnel towards the pitch.

*

"Branstone, Abbott, McMillan, Bones, Jones, Madley and Finch-Fletchley, please give a big hand for Hufflepuff!"

Applause filled the stadium as the Hufflepuff players soared up into the sky. Harry stood at the back of the line of Gryffindor players, his Firebolt ready in one hand. It felt like forever since he'd had a chance to fly, even though it had barely been six weeks.

"And for Gryffindor, I give you Weasley, Finnegan, Cochran, Weasley, Bell, Boyd and Potter!"

One by one, the Gryffindors mounted their brooms and kicked off, rising to the appreciative roars of the crowd. Harry, last in line, swung one leg over his broom and pushed off.

He was barely level with the top of the stands before he realised that something was seriously wrong.

*

"Welcome, one and all, to the final Quidditch match of the calendar year! Today the mighty Hufflepuff, unfortunate losers to Ravenclaw in their last match, square up to reigning co-champions Gryffindor. It should be a great match!"

Harry wasn't sure quite what was wrong. His Firebolt didn't seem to be responding the way it was supposed to. It seemed slower, less responsive and the balance was poor. Harry wasn't keen on trying any maneuvers on it until it settled down. Twitching the handle slightly, he tried to bring his trajectory around in line with the rest of the Gryffindor team.

"And Harry Potter's showboating!" Lee announced. "It's not often that we see Harry showing off like this, faking a fall from his broom. Of course, it's very hard for a wizard - or witch - to fall from his broom. Even a Squib can fly perfectly safely, the basic magic they possess keeping them perfectly safe. I'm sure that Harry's just making fun of the rumours that say he's lost his powers. As if, folks! This is Harry Potter we're talking about."

Harry scowled. He wanted to tell Lee to shut up, to stop going on about it. 

It was beginning to dawn on Harry just how serious his power loss was. He couldn't even balance properly on his broom, and that was something he'd been able to do since he was eleven.

He looked around, gauging the other players. Ron, Ginny and Justin were all staring at him, each of them trying to decide for themselves exactly what he was up to.

Cautiously, Harry righted himself on his broom. He nodded carelessly to Ron, as though to say that he'd been messing around. Ron glared at him, but nodded curtly.

Harry didn't even need to look at her to know that Ginny was glaring furiously at him, too. 

_She'll hate you for the split second where she thought you were in danger, and she started to care about you again._

Harry gritted his teeth, and focused on the trunk that Cho and Terrence Higgs were carrying out to the centre of the pitch. In there was the Golden Snitch, and that was all that he had to think about for the next however long it took him to catch it. Clumsy brooms, angry former best friends, furious ex-girlfriends... Nothing mattered. It was all about the Golden Snitch.

Harry caught Cho's eye as she set her end of the trunk down. She smiled encouragingly up at him, and he nodded to her. His mind returned to the match, and wondering how exactly he would catch the Snitch when Justin - he glanced at the Hufflepuff Seeker - seemed to be on fine form. Frowning slightly, he returned his gaze to the trunk, watching carefully as Flitwick undid the catches and popped the lid open.

"And there goes the Snitch! It's a fast one today, folks. Look at it go!"

Harry swallowed with difficulty. His throat suddenly felt very tight. He'd barely seen the Snitch before it disappeared. Taking care to hold on tightly, he twitched the Firebolt slightly. His face fell as it shuddered unpleasantly in his grip.

The match kicked off, the Quaffle blasted magically up into the air from the tip of Flitwick's wand. Harry just about had time to blink before the Bludgers came alive and targeted the nearest player.

Unfortunately for Harry, that player was him.

He dived instinctively, nearly tumbling off of his broom as gravity caught him. The Bludgers followed relentlessly, staying fixed on Harry as he frantically tried to evade them. He knew that Bludgers attacked the nearest player to them, and he looked frantically around, trying to locate someone else for the Bludgers to pursue.

"And Potter is already in trouble! He looks like he's really straining here, but he's not pushing the Firebolt as hard as he has in the past! Whatever troubles Harry Potter has had recently, he obviously hasn't fully recovered! Of course, Gryffindor have no reserve Seeker, so they could be in real trouble here today."

Dean and Josh finally caught up with Harry and the Bludgers when a wide, sweeping turn by Harry allowed the Beaters time to anticipate where to go next. The Bludgers rocketed away, one nearly decapitating Justin as it went.

"The Hufflepuff Seeker was caught napping there, but the Bludgers are back in play. Hufflepuff lead by twenty points to ten!"

Harry flew low to the ground, as intent on avoiding a long fall from a great height as he was on catching the Snitch.

"Harry's taking a very different approach to his usual tactics. I can't say that Gryffindor captain Ron Weasley looks very happy with the new tactics, though."

Harry cringed, not daring to look back at Ron, but not wanting to watch as Susan Bones slotted the Quaffle neatly between Katie and Vickie, setting Jones free to make a run on Ron's goal.

"Great Bludger work by Finnegan," Lee crowed. "A well timed interception denying Jones a clear scoring opportunity."

Harry watched the game play out from a few feet above the grass. Every time he tried to climb upwards, the Firebolt began to tremble and Harry forced the broom downwards again. After the first several half-rises, Lee had christened the maneuver "The Potter False Dawn, not as dangerous as the Wronski Feint, but every bit as interesting. Well, actually it's not. Get _on_ with it, Harry!"

Harry scowled, as much at Lee as at Hufflepuff's dominance of the match. He groaned as Bones and Jones broke through the Gryffindor defence again, and Ron was fooled by a simple reverse pass.

"Seventy-twenty to Hufflepuff, and you have to wonder if the Hufflepuff Chasers could have scored if Harry Potter weren't inspecting the pitch boundary lines."

Harry sighed. He wondered if Lee were baiting him because of Fred and George, as he had Michael Corner, or if Lee was just offended by Harry's playing style. He found himself hoping that it was the latter. He remembered Ron saying how embarrassed Ginny had been by Lee's commentary during the match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

Ten more minutes passed, and Gryffindor began to impress themselves on the match. They scored five goals in quick succession, tying the scores, before a ferocious exchange of Bludgers sent Hannah Abbot's club flying from her grasp. Ernie McMillan temporarily abandoned the match to check on Hannah and then dived down to snatch the club up. Free from attack, the Gryffindor Chasers scored three times before Ernie, a ferocious scowl on his face, returned to the match. A loud cheer from the Hufflepuff greeted his swinging both clubs, catching both Bludgers, and sending the heavy iron balls towards Ginny and Vickie, who were celebrating their last goal.

Harry was rising before he even consciously registered that the girls had their backs to the onrushing Bludgers. He yelled loudly, but his voice was drowned out by the lusty roars of the crowd. He distantly heard Lee, roaring loudest of all, and then Vickie and Ginny looked around at the same time, throwing themselves into spiraling, sharply diverging dives. Harry could see that it wouldn't work; that the Bludgers were just too fast. He was dimly aware of Flitwick's whistle sounding shrilly over the roar of the crowd, and then he passed Josh, snatching the Beater's club from his hand as he squeezed every last shred of acceleration from the Firebolt.

Harry swung, the club tingling in his hand, the world seeming to slow, the golden letters on the back of Vickie's robes glinting in the weak sunlight as he slammed the club into the top of the Bludger, driving it downward, buying Vickie the time she needed to get clear.

And then there was...

_...Ginny..._

...who was speeding around the pitch, far from any other player. Harry silently raged at her for failing to stay near the others, for making him chase her, for putting herself in danger. But even as the Firebolt hit top speed again, he knew that she'd had no choice. A fixated Bludger could fly as fast as almost any broom, and even the best fliers would have little or no time to think. Ginny was flying purely on instinct and, as a particularly loud roar punctured his concentration, he knew that Ginny's instincts were what had kept her from being caught by the Bludger.

Slowly, inch by inch, he found himself gaining. He wanted to yell out, to tell Ginny where to go, but he knew that any distraction could be disastrous. Instead, he had to anticipate the moves of a girl whom he'd never really understood.

And then it was over.

*

Harry sat in the middle of the silent Gryffindor common room. After a long period of thought, he'd managed to work out what had happened in the last few seconds of the match.

Firstly, just as Harry had drawn within reach of the Bludger, Ginny had jumped off of her broom.

Secondly, Dean had swooped past on his broom and caught Ginny in mid-air. Harry noted sourly that the two of them had been almost inseparable ever since.

Next, in his surprise, Harry had missed his swing at the Bludger and overbalanced. Panicking, he lost control of his Firebolt and tumbled off of it, plummeting groundwards.

After that, he had tumbled through the air. With a detached mind, he noticed that the Hufflepuff team were celebrating wildly, Justin held up on their shoulders, his fist held clenched in the air. Harry had decided that his senses were focusing on anything other than his impending death, which explained why he could see the Snitch's silver wings beating hopelessly against Justin's clenched hand.

Then Flitwick cushioned Harry's landing with a wave of his wand, and time, which had been operating in slow motion since Harry had swung at the first Bludger, returned to normal. Flitwick informed Harry that both he and Ernie had lost ten points for their respective houses for illegal usage of the Beaters clubs. For Harry, it had been the froth on the potion, and the phrase he used - one that he'd picked up from Ron - had cost Gryffindor another twenty points.

_It's strange_, Harry decided. _I thought people would be furious. They're just... beaten._

He looked around the common room. The last time he could remember the Gryffindors being so quiet was after the first attack on Hogsmeade by the Dementors a year before.

_I cheered people up last time. I don't think I can manage that this time._

After Flitwick had set him on the ground, Harry had turned around to face a furious Ron. Ron had glared at Harry for several long seconds, before storming off. Harry had been left standing alone at one end of the Quidditch pitch as the teams and the crowd streamed out of the stadium. He had cut a very forlorn figure as he made his way back to the changing room.

And now no one was talking to anyone. Hermione had buried herself in a thick book on Morgan Le Fay, Harry noted. Ron was staring listlessly out of the window. Neville was idly playing with Trevor, his pet toad. No one seemed to be in the mood for doing anything.

Harry checked his list of study sessions. Vickie and two of her classmates were booked in to study Banishing charms that afternoon. Even as he put his list away, however, Vickie got up and walked over to him.

"Harry, I'm not coming to your study session this afternoon."

Harry nodded. "Okay, I understand."

"Do you?" she asked, looking at him quizzically. "Somehow I don't think that you do."

"Well, do you want to explain?"

"Harry, I could have dealt with that Bludger," Vickie said. "You didn't have to come after me like that. We lost the match because you came after Ginny and me, rather than chasing the Snitch. Why didn't you trust us?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it again. _Of course they could have handled the Bludgers,_ he thought. _But they didn't have to. I stopped them getting hurt. Well, I did with Vickie, anyway. Why isn't that enough?_

"Anyway, Sam, Amy and I are going to work on the spell on our own. I don't think we could learn very much from you if all you're going to do is try and protect us from everything."

Vickie turned and walked away, leaving Harry lost in thought.

*

Harry awoke early on Sunday morning with a school owl nibbling on his ear. He opened the letters it had brought while it sipped from his goblet of apple juice. Harry wasn't surprised that the letters were from other Gryffindors canceling upcoming study sessions. He suspected that they wouldn't be the last letters of the sort that he received. Checking his list, he crossed off the cancelled sessions, and realised that he had the day free. He decided to spend the day in the library. He could catch up on his homework, put in some time researching the history of Le Fay, and maybe even help out some students who hadn't decided that he wasn't worth their time.

Stopping by the Great Hall to grab some toast, he entered the library to find a scene of great activity, far more than he'd expected at eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. Gilderoy Lockhart stood in the centre of the chaos, poring over a huge book that he was holding up with the help of another wizard. Harry recognised the second man as the wizard who had snapped at Hermione several weeks before, and time didn't seem to have calmed him. He looked up at Harry, snarled "Library's closed!" tossed his heavy ponytail and fixed his gaze once more on the book.

Harry was just about to leave when Lockhart looked up and smiled. "Harry! Come in, come in, don't mind us. How are you? We're all a bit excited at the moment."

Lockhart stepped away from the book, leaving the other wizard to struggle with it for several seconds before slamming it shut with a huge BANG! and shooting a look of pure hatred at Lockhart. Harry shuddered at the look, but Lockhart didn't even flinch. The former Dark Arts teacher threw a companionable arm over Harry's shoulders and guided him to a table set apart from the chaos.

"We may have had something of a breakthrough in our search," Lockhart said. "Too soon to say for sure, but everyone's dashing about. All highly exciting, of course. Good job I've got the Sound Stone. I'll be able to speak to Minister Fudge as soon as we can confirm anything."

"Oh, yes, thank you for lending me the Sound Stone that time," Harry said, slightly embarrassed at not saying anything before now."

"My absolute pleasure, young Harry," Lockhart beamed, his pearly white teeth beaming in the gloomy library. "Anything I can do to repay the great debt that I owe you."

Harry shifted, uncomfortably. "You don't owe me anything," he muttered.

"You're a very noble young man," Lockhart pronounced. "Still, if ever you need my help, I shall always be happy to offer it."

"Er, thanks," Harry said, wondering what sort of situation he'd find himself in that he'd be asking for help from an amnesiac ex-confidence trickster.

Lockhart bustled off to supervise his staff, leaving Harry to work on Professor Flitwick's latest essay, _Compare and contrast the blessings and curses of the three main gravity-negation spells. _Harry sighed. He hated 'Compare and contrast' essays. 

_Still, it's not like I've got much else to do today._

An hour later Harry, rather to his surprise, had finished the essay. He rolled up the parchment, and looked for something else to do. He was further surprised to discover that he didn't have any more homework left. Going over the rolls of parchment on which he'd almost absentmindedly written five essays in the last week, his eyes grew steadily wider.

_These are... okay,_ he realised. _I wrote these after the study sessions that I did this week. I was half-asleep. But they're not bad. This Transfiguration one almost looks like something Hermione would hand in._

Harry reread the title of the Transfiguration essay: _Your own private library; How to turn that unwanted Christmas present into the book you really want._ Harry remembered Hermione becoming extremely excited at the idea of conjuring any book she wanted, although McGonagall had warned that there were two limitations. The first was that the wizard had to know the book they wanted well enough for the spell to work. "You must know it word for word," she had said. The second limitation was that the spell was incredibly complex, with most wizards not possessing the skill to successfully perform the spell.

Harry looked around and quietly drew his wand. Students weren't supposed to use magic in the library, because the books themselves were so magical. Even a well cast spell could cause unforeseen reactions.

Looking around one last time, Harry looked down at his Transfiguration textbook, took a deep breath and, concentrating hard on his copy of _Flying with the Cannons, _flicked his wand.

_"Pongus Multiplex!"_

There was a great roar of shouting voices, and for the briefest of moments, Harry thought that they were cheering him for successfully casting the spell. Then he looked down at the textbook, which hadn't changed except where a few sparks had landed on the cover and were smoldering gently. Slapping at the burns, Harry looked around to see what the shouting was about, and was only mildly surprised to see Lockhart having a huge row with the ponytailed wizard, while the other Ministry researchers looked on sullenly. Harry noticed that these other wizards, who he'd never really looked at before, didn't look particularly intelligent. One or two of them rather reminded Harry of Crabbe and Goyle.

"Isn't it bad enough that that stupid so-called Seer is about as useful as a broken wand? I've got to interview her every week in case she remembers anything new, and it's not fun, I assure you! And now you rise to even greater heights of stupidity! Are you doing it deliberately? Where on earth did you get the idea," the ponytailed wizard yelled, "that Le Fay could possibly have died in America!"

"Well, you know, the word did rather look like Georgia," Lockhart said.

The ponytailed wizard went through a pantomime that clearly showed exactly what he thought of this idea. He then stormed off, the other researchers following him down an aisle, leaving Lockhart looking very abandoned.

Harry smothered the last smoldering sparks on his Transfiguration book, and collected all his work together. It didn't seem like he'd be able to work on Morgan Le Fay today after all.

Just as he was fastening his bag, the library door opened again, and Hermione came in, several heavy books in her arms.

"More of our books?" Lockhart snapped, rounding on her and snatching them from her hands. "Honestly, Miss Granger, I expected better of you. We needed these books this morning. Try thinking of others next time, you insufferable know-it-all."

And with that, he hurried down the same aisle that the other wizards had taken, Hermione's books under one arm.

Hermione glared after him, cold fury radiating from her almost visibly. Harry hesitated for a second, before approaching.

_You don't need to say much. Just a few words._

"Hermione?"

"What?" she snapped, turning around to glare. Her expression softened slightly as she realised who she was taking to.

"He didn't mean it, Lockhart, I mean. He's just under a lot of stress at the moment to deliver something on Le Fay."

"Oh, right," Hermione said, looking thoroughly nonplussed.

"Well, see you."

Harry left Hermione in the library, and climbed back up to Gryffindor Tower. Even as he climbed, he felt another of the, now thankfully infrequent, waves of sleepiness hit, and he was thankful to fall, exhausted, onto his bed. His last conscious thought was to realise that none of the other boys had even got up yet.

*

That evening, Hermione sat staring across the Common Room. A very formal and sincere note of apology from Lockhart lay on the table before her, and the fingers of one hand drummed absently upon it. Her gaze was fixed intently on Harry, who in turn was focused on the Arithmancy OWL level textbook which he had open before him.

"I suppose you're going to go and try to talk to him again," Ron said, without looking up from his Charms essay.

"No," Hermione said as she stood up. "I'm _going_ to talk to him."

She crossed the Common Room and sat down on a stool next to Harry.

"So, do you have any suggestions for when I take my Arithmancy NEWT next year?"

"Yeah, don't," he replied, without looking up.

"Harry?"

He looked up.

"I got a note from Lockhart, apologising for this morning."

"Good," he said, and looked back down.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped. He looked up again, a mild expression of annoyance fleeting across his features before they settled into a blank politeness.

"I don't understand you, Harry," Hermione frowned. "How can you be so nice to so many people, but abandon your friends?"

"Hermione, I-"

"_No_, Harry. Let me finish. You've been great these last few weeks. Everyone knows that. You've been a friend to everyone. You've made sure that anyone can come to you, and that's amazing. But who do you go to, Harry? Where do you turn for help?"

"I don't need help," Harry said quietly. "I'm Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. I do what I do because I have to, and there's no point in whining about it."

Harry's voice was getting louder, and one or two people were looking at him and Hermione.

"You think I'm great, Hermione? That's nice, but I don't care. Friends are a luxury I can't afford. I can't be worrying about people, I need to stay focused. When the time comes that I stand in front of Voldemort," Harry yelled, "I don't need to be distracted by my friends!"

"What about when you faced the Boggart?" Hermione asked quietly. "You were all alone there, and you failed."

Harry's shoulders sagged, and he looked as though he'd been punched in the stomach.

"That's where you're wrong," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I had all my friends in that room. The Boggart just showed me the truth, and why I just can't afford to have any friends if I'm going to face Voldemort and have any chance of winning."

With that, he returned to his book, leaving Hermione feeling very confused.

_To be continued..._

Chapter 20

**Frantic: **There's a lot of miles to go before Harry and Ginny can be together again, not the least of which is that Harry right now is saying he doesn't want to be with her...

**Eric2:** Now you know, he said yes, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it...

**Silver Warrior:** Harry's going to get a lot of beatings in this story, and that's all I'm saying...

Chapter 21

**Frantic: **Here's some more ;-)

**Fraggle****-Rock-Chick:** Lockhart a Death Eater? He does have that wavy blonde hair, doesn't he... Hmmm... Maybe :-p

**Silver Warrior:** See above. Whapping is coming ;-)


	24. Chapter Twenty Three: Hogmanay

**_Chapter Twenty-Three: Hogmanay_**

It hadn't been a very merry Christmas. The_ Daily Prophet_ had reported a number of fresh attacks, all of them carried out on academics, historians and medieval enthusiasts. The_ Prophet_ had finally made the link in its Boxing Day edition, much to the distaste of Mr. Weasley and Percy, who had been summoned from a full Weasley Christmas into the Ministry to help present a strong face to the public. Minister Fudge wanted the wizarding world to be calm, and was resisting making a public statement regarding the increasingly widespread rumours of Voldemort's return.

Fudge's gambit had backfired, however. The Prophet had labeled the recall a panic measure, and the tension in the wizarding world had increased noticeably.

Ginny and Ron were happy to board the Hogwarts Express, then, and bid farewell to a distracted Mrs. Weasley, who hurried off Platform Nine and Three Quarters before the guard even began to close the carriage doors.

"She's in a rush," Ron muttered as they found space in a compartment with the Patil twins and Lavender and Seamus.

"Probably off to, well, you know," Ginny whispered in reply. Ron nodded. Returning home to find the Burrow being used as a hub for the anti-Voldemort underground had been something of a shock. Having Mad-Eye Moody, Dedalus Diggle and an Auror called Kingsley Shacklebolt sleeping intermittently in the spare beds Molly Weasley seemed to conjure at will was disconcerting, but for Ron the strangest thing was having a young female Auror by the name of Tonks wandering around the house. Tonks had shared Ginny's room, and the two young women had got on to the point of near exclusivity. 

Tonks was a Metamorphmagus, meaning that she could change certain parts of her appearance at will. On a dare from Ginny, she had turned her hair brown and bushy, and altered her features to the point that she closely resembled Hermione. She had then Apparated into Ron's room early one morning, before awakening him. In the dim early morning light, Ron had been halfway to hugging Tonks before he fully awoke and let out a yell that had brought Fred, Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparating into Ron's room, wands drawn and ready to hex.

Mrs. Weasley had been furious with Ginny and Tonks, even after Ron had swallowed his own anger at them and forgiven them. Molly had ranted at the pair, slowly going further and further off topic until her rage had been focused not at them, but instead at the situation they found themselves in, with everyone risking their lives, everyone in danger, never knowing quite when danger might come...

"Molly," Mr. Weasley had said gently, taking her arm. "Come on now, let's have a cup of tea."

As Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left, Ginny and Ron had exchanged identical, sombre, looks.

Now they were heading back to Hogwarts, and Ron hoped that by the time they left in the summer, his mum would be okay. He hadn't liked seeing her upset, especially as he had felt somewhat responsible.

The plump witch appeared at the compartment door, her trolley overflowing with sweets and chocolate.

"Would anyone like anything?" she asked. Seamus got to his feet and bought some Chocolate Frogs, while Padma and Parvati bought pumpkin juice. Ron shook his head while Ginny stared at the floor. Ron sighed. He missed having Harry around. _Considering what a gloomy sod he can be at times, Harry's got a knack for cheering people up, even if we only talked about Quidditch it'd be cool._

His stomach growled as he watched the trolley disappear. _Harry had other plus points too, _Ron frowned. 

The only bright spot of the holidays had been Christmas Day itself, when everyone's worries had seemed to disappear for a glorious twenty-four hours. Fred and George had bought Ron a subscription to _Quidditch Weekly_, claiming that if they couldn't be at Hogwarts to oversee Ron's captaincy, they could at least make sure he was reading the right things. That week's magazine had lasted Ron all the way from Kings Cross to the Scottish border, but now he was thinking about the Aurors and Dumbledore's secret plans again. It all made him feel very melancholy.

_Still, only another hour or so 'til Hogwarts, and then at least I can see Hermione again. Hope she's okay. I probably should've written more, but what was I supposed to put?_

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hope you're okay. Home's miserable. Mum's mostly grumpy, but sometimes she cries. Dad's stressed, Bill and Charlie are off doing secret stuff all the time, there's strange Aurors sleeping in my living room and the twins keep trying to make people laugh. It's not working._

_Oh, and Percy's started losing his hair. It's probably stress related, so Dad's banned us from making fun of him._

_Hope you're having fun at Hogwarts without us,_

_Ron_

_P.S. I almost snogged someone who looked a bit like you._

Ron grinned._ I should have sent that, just to see what she'd say._

*

Hermione stood with Hagrid on the platform at Hogsmeade station. She held her wand close, warmed partly by the fire at its tip, partly by her proximity to Hagrid's huge lamp.

"Any minute now," he said, squinting into the gloom. Snowflakes speckled his beard, making him look rather more distinguished than usual. Hermione thought that it looked rather strange on him.

"There," he said, raising the lamp and pointing. Hermione shivered, partly from the loss of the lamp's heat, partly at the sight of a glow in the distance that she knew was the lights of the Hogwarts Express. Soon she'd see Ron again.

It hadn't been a very merry Christmas for Hermione, either. She had chosen to stay at Hogwarts rather than go home for the holidays, and while she had said that she was staying to work, she knew that it had been obvious she was staying for Harry. She had hoped that he would open up to her when it was just them, maybe even explain his cryptic comment about not being able to have friends.

It had been a very disappointing ten days.

Harry had spent almost the entire time in the library. Hermione had taken to sitting by him, but he had virtually ignored her. Once, when he had got up to get a drink, she had sneaked a look at the work he was doing. It had been advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, the sort of thing, Hermione suspected, that Aurors studied. Judging by his notes, Harry seemed to understand it rather well; Better, she thought, than she would have done.

_Still,_ she thought, as the Express pulled up at the platform. _He seems happy. Sort of. I suppose I just have to accept that he's made his choice_

She sighed heavily.

_I just wish it didn't hurt so much._

*

Excited chatter filled the halls of Hogwarts for the rest of the day, and much of the next. Last minute arrangements were made for dates to the Ball. Luna frustrated Ginny by refusing to say who she'd arranged to go with. Ron and Hermione had an explosive, instantly forgotten row about Gobstones. Harry held a number of study sessions with the few first, second and third years who had remained at Hogwarts over the holidays.

By five o'clock, Harry was feeling nervous, although he wasn't entirely sure why. He grabbed his Firebolt and headed for the Quidditch pitch. To his disgust, though not surprise, he was once again unable to fly higher than ten feet or so above the ground without feeling as though he would fall off. He walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, thinking about the last Quidditch match all the way.

*

Ginny shifted unhappily from one foot to another. She had been preparing for the ball for over an hour, and so far all that had happened was that Daniella Spinnet had styled her hair repeatedly.

"Dani, we'll be late," Ginny said, as her friend looked critically at Ginny's fifth new style in the last fifteen minutes.

"You want to look nice, don't you?" Daniella asked around a mouthful of hairgrips.

"Of course, but- Oh, honestly!" Daniella had released the latest style and Ginny's long red hair tumbled down around her shoulders once more.

Ginny gave up. She had been trying to avoid it, but time was of the essence now. Reaching into her make up bag, she pulled out the enchanted hair clip that Harry had given her for her last birthday. Daniella had the sense not to say anything as Ginny shoved the grip into her hair and muttered "French plait." There was a flurry of hair around her, and then a perfect plait lay precisely down the middle of her back.

"Come on," she said to Daniella, with forced brightness. "Let's do your makeup."

*

Dean stood with Seamus, Neville and Ron, fidgeting nervously as they waited for their dates to come downstairs.

_Okay Dean, just friends. She's going through a horrible breakup. It's not even two months yet. This is not the time to make some nasty great tacky move on her._

He heard footsteps and turned expectantly, tugging nervously at the cuffs of his dress robes as he did so.

_Blimey!_

_Okay, just friends. But if she's up for using me as a rebound, I'm _not_ going to complain._

Feeling slightly dazed, Dean extended his arm to Ginny, who smiled politely and looped her arm through the crook of his. Hermione joined Ron, Neville took Daniella's hand and Seamus and Lavender exchanged a quick kiss.

The eight Gryffindors were about to leave, when Hermione looked around.

"Where's Harry?"

Dean felt Ginny's grip on his arm tighten slightly. "Well, he's going with Cho Chang, isn't he?" he said. "He left about half-an-hour ago to meet her."

"Oh, yes, of course."

Dean, valiantly ignoring Ginny's now vice-like grip on his arm, led the Gryffindors out of the common room.

*

The feast that accompanied the Hogmanay Ball was a triumph of the house elves' art. For once, Hermione refrained from any comments about the way that the elves were treated, for which everyone at their table was deeply grateful.

And then, when the meal was finished, the Weird Sisters appeared on stage and four spotlights reached out from the enchanted ceiling, picking out Ron and Hermione, Cho and Harry, Terrence Higgs and Pansy Parkinson, and Justin Finch-Fletchley and Eloise Midgen. The four Quidditch captains stood, extended their hands to their partners, and led them onto the dance floor.

"Good evening," Myron Wagtail, the lead singer of the band, announced. "It's always a pleasure to play at Hogwarts again."

There was a polite round of applause. It was well known that the members of the band had all once been at Hogwarts and the current students were proud that the globally famous band had had its origins in Hogwarts often-neglected music room.

"A big hand for the Quidditch captains and their partners," Wagtail said. There was another polite round of applause, which grew considerably louder as the band launched into their most recent hit, a slow number called _Twisted Mystery_.

Dean, watching the four couples dance, noticed that Harry and Cho looked very awkward dancing together. Then Cho said something, and Harry smiled. They quickly appeared more comfortable together.

The song ended, and there was a pause as more couples filed onto the dance floor. Harry and Cho stayed on the floor, Dean noticed, while Terrence and Pansy made a sharp exit. Pansy looked highly offended, while Terrence had a mutinous look on his face.

Dean looked across at Ginny, wondering if he should ask her to dance. The band struck up another slow song, and he decided to wait for a faster number before asking. It didn't escape his attention that Ginny was watching the dancers with a far away look in his eyes. He didn't have to try very hard to work out what was on her mind. One look at the dance floor, with Harry and Cho at the centre, was enough for him to know.

*

Ron and Hermione danced comfortably together. It was hard for them to believe, but a year had passed since their first date at the previous Hogmanay Ball. Hermione's head lay on Ron's shoulder, her hands on his chest, his hands clasped lightly in the small of her back.

The song ended, and Hermione gently broke the embrace. After two slow songs, it was time for a much faster number, and the drummer clattered his drumsticks together quickly to signify the change of pace.

*

"Dance?" Dean asked, putting his hand out to Ginny.

"Sure," she replied, smiling politely as she took his hand.

*

The dance floor filled quickly. Seamus and Lavender impressed with their exuberant dancing, while much was made of how very wrapped up in one another Neville and Daniella were. Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood caused quite a stir when they turned up together, wearing robes of matching blue and yellow. Rumours abounded about Harry and Ginny and their dates. Through it all rung the music of the Weird Sisters, fast songs like _Auror Training _and _The Headless Hunt_ interspersed expertly with slower numbers like _Bewitching You_ and _Memorial_.

Dean noticed more than a few couples exchanging shy, tentative first kisses to the slower songs. But he did nothing. As well as dancing with Ginny almost all night - except for one song where Ron had insisted on an exchange of partners - he had been keeping a discreet eye on her. 

_It's not like she's obvious about it,_ he thought as Ginny's eyes fleeted once more in the direction of Cho and Harry. _She's doing better than I did when Hannah broke up with me. But the way she feels about him just shows in everything she does._

He remembered what Hagrid had told them about wolves, and their ability to sense through the Earth's magical field. 

_Yeah, just like Ginny. Her senses are tuned due Harry._ The idea made him smile ruefully. _Well, if Harry's who you want, Ginny, then Harry is who you shall have._

_Now, time that I had a word with Mr. Potter._

Dean guided Ginny through a full circle, looking around to see where Harry was. Neither he nor Cho were visible on the dancefloor, and Dean was about to give up the search when he felt Ginny stiffen suddenly in his arms. Not for the first time that evening, Dean let his gaze follow hers, and as with all the times before, his gaze joined hers, looking at Cho and Harry.

Together.

Leaving the Great Hall, and heading for the rose garden.

Dean sighed quietly. It seemed that reuniting Ginny and Harry would be harder than he'd thought.

*

Harry and Cho wandered a little way away from everyone else, although Harry didn't think that any of the couples in the rose garden would have noticed if he and Cho had started yelling at the tops of their voices right next to them. They all looked rather preoccupied.

"Nice night," Cho said.

"Yeah. Thanks for coming out here. I was just feeling a bit hot inside."

"That's okay," she said. "With all those people dancing, it was bound to be quite warm."

"I didn't notice last year," Harry shrugged. "The year before, well, I only danced once."

He smiled at the memory of how bothered he had been, two years before, about finding a date to the Ball. He had wanted to go with Cho, and after that option had been taken away, almost anyone would have done. It all seemed rather amusing, in hindsight.

He looked at Cho, who seemed lost in her own thoughts. Harry realised immediately that she was thinking of the Ball from two years before as well.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About Cedric, I mean, bringing him up."

She looked up, and smiled. For the first time in a long time, Harry found himself thinking about how pretty she looked when she smiled.

"Don't be," she said. "Cedric wouldn't have wanted people to be sorry he was gone. It took me a long time to realise it, but he wouldn't have. It wasn't like him to mourn a loss. He celebrated life, every day. I'm trying to be like that. That's why I asked you to come with me tonight. You always seem so solemn, especially since Halloween. I thought I could help you have fun."

"You said that you'd have a miserable time tonight," Harry said, bending down to adjust his robes.

Cho nodded. "I thought that I would," she said. "But you're nice to be around, Harry. I don't like this time of year, but being with you, well, it makes it all a bit more bearable. You're a lot like Cedric, in a way."

She leant forward to kiss him on the cheek. At the last second, Harry straightened up, and turned his head to say something.

*

Ron and Hermione were on their way through the rose garden towards the lake. They held hands, and were sharing a rare, companionable, silence. Turning a corner, they stopped dead. 

Ron's expression froze, and then gradually turned from blissful happiness to pure fury. He turned a deep red, which matched almost perfectly the colour of his robes, and then stormed off, leaving Hermione without a word.

Hermione was torn between following Ron, and staying. She felt uncomfortable watching Harry and Cho kissing, but couldn't help but think that there was some mistake. Hiding behind a bush, she watched as they broke apart. Then Cho smiled, then started giggling, and then suddenly she was doubled over in a huge laughing fit. Harry looked uncomfortable for a moment, and Hermione could imagine the thunderstruck expression on his face. Then his shoulders started shaking, and soon he was doubled over with laughter as well, the two of them trying to support one another, before collapsing onto the ground, Cho clutching her sides and Harry wiping his eyes.

Satisfied, Hermione turned away. She didn't have any idea how she'd explain it to Ron, but at least Harry's current mental state hadn't descended into complete insanity.

*

Cho was still giggling occasionally.  Harry was smiling. The two dared not meet each other's gazes, lest they set off another bout of laughter. They made their way to a bench on the edge of the enchanted warmth of the gardens and sat down.

"Oh dear," Cho said, grinning.

"Yeah. D'you reckon anyone saw us?"

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," Cho said.

"Tonight," Harry said. "If I'm dead tomorrow, Ron saw us, or heard about it from someone."

"He's still angry, then?" Cho asked.

"Ron's always angry about something," Harry said dismissively. "If it's not me going out with Ginny, it's me breaking up with Ginny."

"And how did Ginny feel about you breaking up with her?" Cho asked, quietly.

"Well, she got mad at me, and now she's with Dean Thomas. I'd say she's coping okay, wouldn't you?" Harry said, his fists clenched tightly in his lap.

"Do you really believe that?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he looked out over the lake, and then turned to look over Cho's shoulder towards Hagrid's hut. Finally, he looked down at his hands, and unclenched the fists.

"No," he breathed, so quietly that Cho barely heard him.

"What?"

"No. I don't believe she's coping okay. I don't think Ron gets angry at everything and nothing. I don't think Hermione's bossy, or a know-it-all, and normally I'd be quite happy for her to interfere in my life. She does a much better job of it than I do, usually."

Cho stared at him.

"You're saying you were wrong to say all those things?" she said at last.

"No," he said, much more forcefully this time.

"I don't understand," Cho said.

"And given that you're in Ravenclaw, and a seventh-year, that's saying a lot," Harry smirked.

"Harry..."

"No, I'm sorry," Harry said. "Although if I'd heard you say that one more time, I'd have hexed you."

"You can't hex anyone, can you?" Cho asked, feeling somewhat at sea.

"It was a joke," Harry said, his green eyes sparkling brightly behind his glasses. "This thing called 'humour'. Sound familiar?"

Cho made a face. "Was I that annoying?"

"Yes," Harry nodded emphatically. "But it worked. I hope you're sitting comfortably. You've earned the truth about why I've been acting like Snape, whenever I'm around Ginny, Hermione and Ron.

"It was the night of Halloween. I hadn't been sleeping well, and I was really, really tired..."

*

Harry pushed the door of the staff room open. It was a quarter-past-six. With luck, he could capture the Boggart before Ron even showed up. He looked around, smiling at the decorations. It had been more than three years since he had been here, on the day Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets, and the only difference lay in the pumpkin lanterns and moving skeletons that had been scattered about. One of the skeletons waved to Harry, who waved back, stifling a yawn with his other hand.

There was a loud clattering from the cloak cupboard that stood against the far wall of the room. Harry approached cautiously, his wand drawn. He found himself visualising the Patronus he would cast, ready to knock the Boggart to the floor for him to trap in a Binding charm. His wand seemed to tingle in his hand, and Harry knew that the Patronus would burst forward with great eagerness.

He rested one hand on the cupboard handle, his wand ready in the other, and pulled the door open quickly.

*

"It wasn't a Dementor, was it?" Cho asked.

Harry shook his head. "Seems stupid to think it would be, really. I haven't been really scared of Dementors since the end of my fourth year."

"Was it You-Know... oh, curse it. Was it V-Voldemort?"

"Not... exactly."

*

"_Expec__-_"

The word froze on Harry's lips. The figure before him was certainly no Dementor.

"Harry!"

It was Ginny.

"G-Ginny? What are you doing here? There's supposed to be a Boggart in there!"

"A Boggart?" Ginny laughed, her fiery hair dancing in the light from the pumpkin lanterns. "No, it's just me. All alone. Just me."

"Oh."

Ginny looked at the wand in his hand.

"Were you going to jinx me, Harry?"

"Er, no. Sorry. Like I said, I thought there was a Boggart in here. Er, are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale."

Harry looked closer. Ginny didn't just look pale. Her skin had no colour to it at all. Her face was a deathly white, the same colour it had been in the Chamber of Secrets.

"She's fine, Harry," Hermione said, stepping out of the shadows of the closet, side on to Harry. "We're all fine. Don't worry about us."

"Hermione? Is this some kind of joke? What's wrong with you?"

"Me? There's nothing wrong with me, Harry," Hermione said, turning to face him. Harry barely stifled a yell. The side of Hermione's face that had been hidden before was covered in blood, a wide cut just below her hairline glistened wetly.

"It's only a scratch, Harry. Don't worry."

"Listen to her, Harry. She's smart."

This time Ron stepped out of the shadows. He had his Gladius with him, but it trailed limply in one hand. His other hand was clamped to his side, but Harry could see blood welling between his friend's fingers, his shirt stained a rusty red, and the stain spreading further before Harry's eyes. Ron dropped to his knees, the sword clattering to the ground as he put out his hands to catch himself. The wound in his side bled heavily, the blood spattering on the floor beside him. Harry stood frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do.

"I'm sorry Harry," Ron gasped, falling flat to the floor. "It was a good fight. We did our best, but we couldn't hold out forever. Sorry-"

Harry watched, helpless, as Ron's head fell to the floor.

"Hermione!"

"Hmmm?" Hermione said, looking up from the floor. "Sorry, Harry, what was that?"

"Ron's-" the word caught in Harry's throat. "Ron's _dead_, Hermione. Don't you care?"

"Oh," Hermione said. "Sorry. I was thinking about the future. No, he's not dead."

"He's not? What do you mean, the future?"

"Well, we're going to be Death Eaters, Harry. I must say, I was rather worried when the Death Eaters brought us before the Dark Lord, but he could hardly have been more gracious. He said he was prepared to forgive us for fighting against him if we agreed to try and kill you."

"Death Eaters? What-" Harry was struggling to believe what he was hearing. _Surely this isn't right? It can't be right. Death Eaters? No..._

But Hermione was smiling serenely in a way that reminded Harry of when she has completed a particularly difficult homework problem. His gaze fell to her arm, where the Dark Mark burned proudly scarlet upon her pale skin.

"No..."

He knelt beside Ron's body for what seemed like an eternity, staring first at the corpse of his best friend, then up at Hermione who was humming unconcernedly to herself. Finally, he remembered that Ginny was still there. He stood up, his breathing sounding harsh and laboured in his ears, and turned to face her.

But Ginny wasn't alone. To Harry's almost numb horror, she was enfolded in the arms of someone Harry had hoped never to see again.

"Welcome back, Harry Potter," Tom Riddle said, a malicious smirk spreading across his face as he stroked Ginny's hair.

*

"Tom Riddle?" Cho asked, startling Harry slightly. He paused, unsure of how much he could safely tell her. 

_I've told her this much. And she can keep a secret, I'm sure._

"Tom Riddle is, was, Voldemort's real name," Harry said. "In my second year, he reappeared as a ghost, a spirit in a diary. He used a Hogwarts pupil to set loose the monster from the Chamber of Secrets. He nearly killed the pupil, draining their life force in an attempt to win back his life and begin again."

Cho nodded. She didn't ask who the pupil was, but Harry knew that she was guessing, and in all likelihood she was guessing correctly.

*

"Just the one thing left to do, and then I'll be ready," Tom said. "Just wait, Potter."

Riddle laid his hand on Ginny's head. She arched backwards, her mouth open in a silent scream, and then dropped lifelessly to the ground. Harry choked back a sob, his breath sounding still louder and harsher. But his eyes stayed fixed on Riddle. He couldn't, _wouldn't_, let anything distract him. He had to kill Riddle, no matter what the cost.

Then Riddle moved, and he seemed to be standing up straighter, except he had already been fully upright. Harry shuddered involuntarily as he watched Riddle twisting, his flesh shifting, the hair disappearing from his head, his features shifting, until-

"And now, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "Once again we stand face to face. No more shall we skulk in one another's dreams. Shall we duel again, Harry? Will you test your luck against my skill once more?"

Harry barely even realised what he was doing. He raised his wand sharply, the tip pointed at Voldemort.

"No, not yet," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand. Harry's arm was forced back down by his side. His breathing rasped still louder in his ears but... Harry realised that it wasn't his own breathing he was hearing. He turned to see that he was surrounded now. 

Sirius and Remus were there, as were the Weasleys. Almost every single member of the Dueling Club was gathered together, and behind them stood the Hogwarts staff, including Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid. They looked hale and hearty, Dumbledore in particular looking younger and more carefree than Harry had ever seen him. They stood before him, smiling happily as they looked at him. 

They were all clad entirely in black robes. They all had their wands in their hands. And they all were aiming at Harry.

And without exception, every single one of them had the Dark Mark blazing bright red on their arms.

"You see, Potter? I have won. Look at them. So many people who mean so very much to you. And I'll take them all, Potter. You know that I can, and you know that I will. _Enervate!_"

Harry was about to turn and see what it was that Voldemort was awakening when Ron stood up before him, his wounds healed over. Indeed, Harry could barely remember a time when Ron had looked so healthy.

"I told you," Hermione said. Harry's eyes were drawn back to the Dark Mark crackling on her right arm. "We were just waiting for him, waiting to be called. I'm sorry it had to come to this, Harry, but you understand, don't you? We had to choose this way. You don't exactly offer people a lot. The Dark Lord offers everything!"

"Hermione, no..." Harry moaned. "Don't..."

"Masks," Voldemort breathed. As one, the dozens of people standing before Harry took hoods from their pockets and pulled them over their heads. Harry stood before a crowd of Death Eaters far greater in size than the group who had assaulted Hogsmeade six months before. Even without the assistance of the Dementors, Harry knew that they would barely have to work to defeat him.

"Turn and face me, Potter," Voldemort commanded. Harry found himself turning without thought. Ginny stood before him.

"We had fun, Harry," she said. She raised a hood of her own, the Dark Mark burning brightest of all against her almost translucent skin. "But in the end, what chance did we ever have? It was always going to come down to this. In the end, it's all about choice, Harry. You never really expected us to choose a slow, hunted death with you over endless power alongside our Master, did you?"

Ginny placed the hood over her head, eclipsing her bright, glossy hair.

"He's shown us the true way forward. By joining him, we're happy," she said.

"You can't kill him, Harry," came Dumbledore's muffled voice from behind him.

"We'll fight you," Lupin's voice added.

"We'll stop you," Sirius agreed.

"Go on, dear. You can't beat us all. Just give up and save yourself a lot of pain before the end comes," Molly Weasley said.

"We couldn't beat him, son."

Harry turned. His parents stood before him once again, arm in arm, cold and pale. They had been dead for fifteen years, and now they were there to see their son face their murderer.

"We died so you could live," Lily Potter said. "We bought you fifteen years."

"I'm sorry it wasn't more," James Potter added. "Don't worry, though. It's surprisingly painless."

"Harry, it's time," Ginny said, slipping her cold, dry hand into his. "It all comes down to this, Harry. The final conflict. You against everyone else. You must have known, surely?"

Voldemort, who had been watching all this with great amusement, laughed. It was a truly horrible sound, like fangs scraping on a slate.

"They're mine now, Potter, not yours. I took them, one by one, two by two, in groups, it didn't matter. I took them, and I made them mine. I must say, I was surprised by how readily they joined me. I thought that you would have inspired some loyalty, but no. Some were very eager indeed," he ran a long, bony finger down Ginny's arm, and his forked tongue flickered briefly over his thin, bloodless lips.

Harry tried to feel anger, but it wasn't there. He could only find despair, despair and a faint horror that he was alone. Horror that everyone he cared for stood against him. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he struggled to stay standing, wanting nothing more than to just give up, to curl into a ball and give up on the world.

But deep, deep inside him there was a burning fury that after all he had given throughout his life, he was once again alone. Once again Voldemort stood before him, but this time he wasn't a baby, he was a wizard, and a powerful one, and he knew spells that could hurt and that could torture.

And that could kill.

"And now you, Harry Potter, stand alone. And the world can know the truth. You are nothing but a child. You can't defeat me. You don't have the skill, you don't have the power-" Voldemort made a sweeping gesture with both his hands "-and now you no longer have any friends to help you."

Harry's arms were suddenly free, the burning rage flaring within him as tears streamed down his face. Ignoring the crowd of traitors who surrounded him, he brought his wand up in one smooth motion and aimed it between Voldemort's cold, slitted eyes.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_To be continued..._

**Tsaui****:** No-one expects Harry's loss of power to be anything but a temporary setback. Regardless, his actions are out of line, and when he won't let anyone get close to him, sympathy for his status is going to be limited. Hermione in particular is still very concerned about him, but Harry's stubborn.

**Eric2:** Now you know what Harry's Boggart is: His worst fear isn't just losing anyone, or even everyone, it's having everyone he loves and cares about turn against him. Were you right?

**Daily Prophet Reporting: **Harry's 'public' image recovered a lot after a short time, but when the Gryffindors momentarily turned against him, it was another shot in the stomach for someone who has gone through a lot without getting much from it.

**Fraggle****-Rock-Chick:** Well done! You guessed correctly about what Harry's Boggart was, and were the only person to do so. Harry's Boggart was indeed seeing his friends massed against him.

**Silver Warrior:** Ginny has a role to play in Harry's future, but physical violence probably won't be it :-p I'm saving that for someone much more skilled in the area ;-)


	25. Chapter Twenty Four: The Truth

**__**

**_Chapter Twenty-Four: The Truth_**

**__**

_('Terrible though it was to hear his parents' last moments replayed inside his head, these were the only times Harry had heard their voices since he was a very small child (...) "They're dead," he told himself sternly. "They're dead, and listening to echoes of them won't bring them back. You'd better get a grip on yourself if you want that Quidditch Cup."' Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, p180 __UK__ paperback)_

"You killed Voldemort?"

"No."

"What, then?" Cho asked.

"It didn't work," Harry said quietly. "They all stood there. And I couldn't kill him. I was so distracted by their all going against me," he stammered. "I saw the Dark Mark on them. They were his. They were all his. What I was doing, trying to live a normal life, trying to have friends, it didn't work. I lost. I lost everyone. They turned on me, and I couldn't concentrate. Seeing everyone I know turn against me, seeing them all on Voldemort's side. Then he started laughing..."

Harry shuddered as he relived the sound of Voldemort's high-pitched, wheezing laugh.

"There was a flash, and the next thing I know, I woke up in the hospital wing. I couldn't beat him, even if he was just a Boggart. That's what it'll come down to. I'm going to be alone against Voldemort, and I couldn't do it on Halloween. That's what I've been doing ever since. Learning and..."

"Protecting your friends?"

Harry looked up. "What?"

"By forcing them away, you're protecting them, that's it, isn't it? You think that if you stop being friends with them, if you send Ginny away, they won't be targets anymore."

Harry laughed, abruptly, and stopped, just as abruptly. An unpleasant expression settled on his face.

"The way you say it," he said. "It sounds noble. Decent. Like something The-Boy-Who-Lived would do."

"It's not?" Cho asked.

"No," Harry said quietly. "It's not. That's not why I did it, not really. Oh, it crossed my mind, but that's not why I broke up with Ginny. That's not why I keep pushing Hermione and Ron away."

"Why, then?"

"Because I'm scared," Harry said, his head bowed. "I'm scared that the time will come that Voldemort will give them that choice, and that they _will_ choose him. What can I offer them, after all? Everyone thinks that it's just me who stands between him and world domination. But I couldn't have come this far without my friends. And if they left me, if they decided to give up on me and join him... I know how much that would hurt me. To see the people I care for the most join Voldemort..." Harry paled at the thought. Cho wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, but he stood abruptly and walked away from the bench.

"I mean, what can I offer them? Life as a target, shunted from tragedy to rumour to lies to battles. It can't be much fun being my friend. I wouldn't blame them if they did decide to abandon me. But if they do join Voldemort, then I can't let it distract me. I can't take the risk that I'll care too much to put them down if they get in my way. That's why I've been pushing them away. I want them to hate me, to make them stay away from me. Then Voldemort won't try and use them against me. When the time comes, I'll have to face Voldemort, and I'll have to do whatever it takes to beat him. I can't risk caring for them, in case he uses that against me. I can't rely on them, because he might already have them working for him. I have to know everything that they do, in case I have to use it against them. If I do have to fight them, then I can't risk being distracted because I won't get a second chance."

Cho shuddered _Put them down?_ How could Harry think like that?

"You can't really think..."

"Think they'd abandon me? Why not? My parents died because a friend betrayed them, not an enemy, a trusted, lifelong friend. I waited for ten years for someone to come and rescue me from the Dursleys, but no one did. I spent ten years locked in a cupboard because my parents were killed, and I keep getting told that I was some kind of hero to the wizarding world, but my parents' friends didn't care enough about me to make sure I was okay. Do you have any idea how that feels? And look at what happened after the match against Hufflepuff! I try and save Ginny and Vickie's lives, and then my entire bloody house decides that it's my fault we lost the match!"

"Harry, they were disappointed. I'm sure they didn't mean to-"

"I'm sure they didn't. But I'm just doing my best." His shoulders sagged. "I'm doing my best, and it's not enough. I have to face Voldemort, and I don't know if I'm strong enough, if I'll ever be strong enough, and I don't have anyone who can tell me what to do. I can't trust anyone, Cho, do you know how that feels? My parents went into hiding to try and save their lives, and they were betrayed. They died knowing that they'd been betrayed, that they couldn't trust anyone, and I know how that feels, and it's the worst thing in the world."

"Your parents must have trusted someone," Cho said, not knowing how else to respond to this.

"Sirius Black," Harry said shortly. "But he got put in Azkaban, didn't he?"

"Do you still worry about him?" Cho asked, automatically, her mind whirling.

"No. One day, maybe, I'll tell you why."

"Why do you trust me, then?" Cho asked, suddenly angry. "You say you can't trust anyone, but you're telling me all this. Why do you trust me, but not people who care about you the way-"

"You weren't there," Harry cut in. "No matter how many times I relive that night, you're never there. You didn't go over to him."

Cho fell silent, not knowing what to say.

"I should go," Harry said turning to face her. Cho was struck by how tall he seemed. "I'm sorry that tonight wasn't the night I promised you."

"Well it wasn't miserable, no," Cho said. She watched him walk away, and then decided that she had to make one last attempt. "Harry! They wouldn't abandon you! Ron, Hermione, especially not Ginny! They love you!"

He paused, and for a second Cho thought that she had broken through to him.

Half turning his head, he said, "So did my parents. Look what happened to them."

Harry rounded the corner, and disappeared.

* * *

By the time lessons started again, Ginny had settled into a rhythm. She threw herself into her work, tried to ignore rumours about Harry and Cho - for what Hermione claimed had been a mistaken kiss, there were a dreadful number of stories about it - and in the evening tried to ignore Ron glaring furiously at his former best friend. The tension in the Gryffindor common room was only alleviated by Harry's absences when he left to conduct his study sessions. Gryffindors were slowly trickling back to his sessions as time healed the memory of Harry ignoring the Snitch in his vain attempt to protect Ginny and Vickie from the rogue Bludgers.

Madam Hooch had invested in a new set of Quidditch balls for the next match, Ravenclaw against Slytherin, after realising that the old set had been in use for nearly four years. Ron had reacted with horror on the discovery, claiming that the magic in any set of Quidditch balls was only good for three seasons, and they had been living on borrowed time since the previous year. Hermione had just shrugged, and looked grateful that Ron had found something other than Harry to talk about for a while.

For Ginny, the worst part of it all was the pitying looks she had started to receive from other pupils. More than once she had been subjected to a talk on 'keeping her chin up' and 'not letting him get to you'. Daniella and Luna had saved her from detention several times, dragging her away before she hexed anyone.

Ginny had learned her lesson from too many years of adoring Harry. In her third year, Michael Corner had provided a way of getting over her crush on Harry for a time. Now, in her fifth year, she was working on other ways of driving her ex-boyfriend from her mind. One of those ways had involved trading Patronus lessons for swordfighting lessons with Dean.

Dean's mastery of swordfighting had raised his profile considerably among the other pupils at Hogwarts. Ginny had seen him talking to a number of girls from various years, and noted wryly that a number of them had been chasing Harry when he had been without a date for the Hogmanay Ball. Now that everyone thought that Harry was dating Cho, Dean had replaced him as the object of affection in the eyes of many girls, much to Dean's bewilderment and growing enjoyment. Word quickly spread through the school when he was seen kissing Padma Patil in Hogsmeade late in January, and Ginny had teased him about it relentlessly over the next week.

Eventually, as Dean guided Ginny through one of their twice-weekly lessons, he had admitted that it had all been blown out of proportion.

"She broke up with her boyfriend. Apparently that berk Goldstein - you know, the Ravenclaw sixth year? - well, he actually fancied _Parvati_, and asked Padma out 'cos Parvati's going out with someone in Hufflepuff. Anyway, the idiot admitted it to Padma, and you can imagine how well that went down," he grinned, disarming Ginny with an intricate manoeuvre that sent her sword flying.

"Like a lead balloon?" Ginny asked, retrieving her Gladius cast. She had known Anthony Goldstein slightly, as he was a friend of Michael Corner's.

"Yeah, about that well," Dean smiled, setting himself to attack again. "Anyway, I was chatting with Padma, and she saw Goldstein come 'round the corner, and she grabbed me. Not that I'm complaining, you know? I mean, she _is_ gorgeous."

Ginny smiled, and set herself to defend against Dean's calculated assault. She enjoyed the lessons with Dean, even if they always seemed to end up talking about Harry, and how Ginny felt about him. It was still fun hacking at things with a big sword. She sometimes imagined that she was hacking at whatever it was that stood between her and Harry, but quickly chastised herself for being silly when she did so.

* * *

For Hermione, January was a month of frustration. Ron had refused to accept her explanation of Harry and Cho's accidental kiss, and was being, in her opinion, rather immature and unnecessarily stubborn. Every attempt to try and get him to move on proved futile.

"They didn't do anything wrong."

"They did _plenty_ wrong!"

Ron barged out of the common room, sending a second year flying and leaving Hermione with a scowl on her face.

* * *

"Ginny doesn't care."

"Yes she does."

Ron stomped off, walking right through Nearly Headless Nick as he left the Great hall.

* * *

"She says she doesn't."

"Are you saying I don't know my own sister?"

Ron turned his back on Hermione and ignored her for the rest of lunch.

* * *

"It's none of your business who Harry kisses!"

"It is when he's breaking my sister's heart!"

Ron chose to work with Neville once they were inside the greenhouse.

* * *

"Why do you care? They broke up. Ginny's moved on, in case you hadn't noticed. She's fine."

"Harry Potter is a git! He acts like he'd do anything for anyone, and then he throws everything we've ever done for him back in our faces! How can you feel sorry for him when he's a complete -"

Professor Snape took great delight in giving Ron two weeks of detention for swearing in the corridor. Ron didn't speak to Hermione for the next two days.

* * *

Hermione was horrified to discover that her work was being affected by her arguments with Ron. Even the latest reports of attacks by Voldemort's forces - no fatalities, thankfully - didn't have the same impact as not getting "Outstanding" on her work. She knew that she was right, that Harry's behaviour wasn't about being nasty to anyone. She knew that he had his reasons, but he wouldn't confide in anyone. As she shoved her "Acceptable" Dark Arts essay deep into her bag, she saw Cho walking past.

"Cho, do you have a minute?"

Cho looked around in surprise.

"Oh, Hermione, yes, of course."

"I'm sorry to bother you."

"That's alright," Cho smiled. "Is it about Harry?"

"Yes," Hermione grimaced. "Everything's always about Harry. You'd think that when he dumps his friends, we'd at least be able to get on with things, but we seem to spend more time talking about him now than when he was hanging around us."

Cho laughed. Hermione felt a surge of anger welling up inside her, but it quickly disappeared as she realised, to anyone else, it would seem funny.

"I'm sorry," Cho said. "I know it's not very funny for you, but its Harry, isn't it? Things happen to him, and by reflection they affect everyone who cares for him. It must have been very hard for you, having him push you away."

"It has. Has he said anything to you? At all?"

Cho's eyes darted away, and for a second Hermione thought that she was going to lie to her. Then Cho said, "He has. I know why he's acting like this. He thinks he has good reason, Hermione, that's all I can say."

"Why does he trust you?" Hermione realised that she was close to whining, but she didn't care. Harry had been one of the first people to accept her at Hogwarts, and to have him abandon their friendship so abruptly felt dreadful.

Cho took a deep breath. "I can't tell you," she said at last. "What he told me, and why he told me, well, I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I can't break Harry's confidence."

Hermione nodded glumly.

"I suppose that it's good for him to have _someone_ to talk to, at least."

Cho managed a small, tight smile. "I could try and talk to him again, but I've barely seen him since New Years Eve."

"You're really not going out with him, them?"

"No," Cho smiled again, more widely this time. "I suppose it makes for a good rumour."

"There's always going to be people ready to believe silly rumours," Hermione said, remembering her own period as Harry's 'girlfriend' during her fourth year. "Cho, listen, if you do talk to Harry, could you tell him something?"

"It's a big if, but okay," Cho said.

"Just tell him... Tell him that it's not the same without him. Ginny's miserable, even if she won't admit it. Ron's miserable, so he's acting foul towards everyone because he doesn't understand why Harry's acting so unlike himself. I'm miserable, and it's affecting my work. We just want him back. Tell him that we don't believe he doesn't want to be friends with us, and that we can help him prepare for facing V-Voldemort."

Cho blinked slowly, then nodded. "I'll try," she said at last. "I don't know how much good it will do."

"Thank you," Hermione said.

* * *

Ron scowled at the second year chattering loudly to his friends. It was Sunday evening and, after watching the Slytherin/Ravenclaw match the day before, Ron had a long Transfiguration essay to finish for the following day. His mood was worsened by what he had seen at the match. Ravenclaw looked unbeatable this year, with Cho Chang on particularly fine form.

_Harry's magicless and besides, he's probably going to be too busy thinking about snogging Cho to even go for the Snitch._

His mood darkening still further, Ron glared furiously at the second year boy again.

_Doesn't he have _any_ homework to do? I should go over there and dock some points. That'll teach the little toerag._

Ron almost stood up, but slumped back in his chair. His gaze traveled disinterestedly over to where Seamus, Neville, Dean and Ginny were laughing at one of Josh Cochran's jokes. On the other side of the room, Katie and Vickie were arguing with Daniella Spinnet and two third year girls about an article in _Transfiguration Today_. Ron vaguely recognised the third years as having been in Harry's study sessions regularly. The realisation sparked off another surge of anger in him, and he got to his feet, heading for the portrait hole and then to the library to confront Harry and have it out with him.

The Fat Lady's portrait banged against the wall as Ron shoved it out of his way. There was an indignant yelp that Ron ignored as he stomped along the west corridor toward the library. He started down a staircase without seeing the person coming the other way.

"Ow! Bloody hell," he barked, lying sprawled on the floor where he had landed after colliding with the other person.

"My father says that whenever a writer is late with an article," Luna Lovegood said, peering owlishly down at Ron. She didn't appear to have even flinched at the collision, despite Ron being much larger than she was. "Would you like a hand?"

Ron took the proffered hand grumpily, and pulled himself upright.

"Sorry," he said gruffly. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

"You're Ginny Weasley's brother, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Ron said sourly. "That's me. Ginny's brother, Fred and George's brother, Charlie, Bill and Percy's brother. Harry Potter's best mate. That's me."

"Is that your name?" Luna asked, appearing to be serious.

Ron gaped at her.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced," Luna went on calmly. "My name is Luna Lovegood." She extended her hand again and Ron, at something of a loss, shook it.

"Ron Weasley," he said. "That's my name. Not the other thing. I'm just Ron."

"Ginny's favourite brother," Luna said. Ron stared at her. "At least, I think you are. She talks about all of you a great deal. It may just be because you're still here and the others aren't anymore."

"Er, right," Ron said. "Listen, sorry about running into you like that. These staircases aren't lit up very well."

"I was on my way to see Ginny. I thought she might have seen my wand. I haven't seen it since this morning," Luna said, as though Ron hadn't spoken.

"I don't remember her mentioning it," Ron said, swept along in Luna's wake. "Er, did you mean that about me being Ginny's favourite brother?"

"She insults you a lot," Luna said distantly. "I think that means she likes you. It may mean she hates you, I suppose."

"Probably," Ron said. He had been on the end of a tongue lashing from Ginny the previous day about the way he was treating Hermione.

_As if it's my fault that Harry's being a git! Am I the only one _not_ chasing after the big-headed idiot? Next thing everyone'll want me to forgive Harry because, well, he's Harry. It's always the same, and I'm ruddy sick of it. And this time he's messing around with Ginny, flaunting Cho the way he did at the ball. Why am I the only one who can see that Harry's just become too big for his boots this year? Everyone's fawning over him like he's flawless. He cost us the last match!_

It hadn't escaped Ron's attention that a few people still held a grudge against Harry for not catching the Snitch, but he was in such a foul mood with his former best friend that it seemed like everyone was ganging up against him. No one who thought Harry had been wrong in the way he'd acted at the match had anything bad to say about him in any other way, and Ron, with his virulently anti-Harry stance, felt very alone.

"She _is_ worried about you, Ronald," Luna said. Ron looked up, suddenly remembering that he had been walking Luna to the Gryffindor common room in silence.

"Sorry, who is?"

"Ginny. She doesn't like the way you've reacted to Harry Potter not liking you anymore."

"As if I care about that!" Ron flushed red. "Good riddance to the arrogant idiot. I don't like the way he treated everyone else. He was a complete-" Ron called Harry a word that would have made anyone but Luna recoil "-and he's got away with it! He always does! He's Harry Potter, so everyone treats him differently!"

"Oh," Luna said, walking up to the Fat Lady. "Ginny Weasley, please," she said. The Fat Lady nodded regally, scowled at Ron, and disappeared behind the tree that normally stood behind her in the painting.

"Here, where's she gone?" Ron asked. "She's only supposed to open for Gryffindors."

"She does only open for your house," Luna said. "But if someone wants to talk to one of you, she'll fetch them."

"Oh," Ron said. "Well, I didn't know that."

"Really?" Luna asked. "Our guardian told me all about it. Have you ever talked to your guardian?"

"What? No," Ron said. He knew from Ginny that Luna was slightly strange, but had never before experienced it. "Why would I want to talk to a painting for?"

"They know an awful lot," Luna explained, waving to Sir Cadogan as the knight puffed past, chasing his fat pony from painting to painting. "Almost as much as the ghosts. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington is very concerned about Harry Potter. Did you know that?"

"Everyone's concerned about Harry Potter," Ron snarled. "He's so bloody wonderful that everyone drops everything as soon as he stubs his toe."

"Really?" Luna asked. "Do you think he's using some kind of mind control? My father would love to have a story like that for the _Quibbler_. I imagine it would sell rather well."

Ron goggled at her, temporarily speechless. The Fat Lady reappeared in her portrait and smiled at Luna.

"Miss Weasley will be out in just a minute, dear. She's just washing her hair."

"Thank you," Luna replied, smiling at the Fat Lady.

"Harry wouldn't do that," Ron said at last. "He wouldn't control people, even if he could."

"Oh, that's a pity," Luna said dreamily. "It would have made for a very good story."

"No, listen, don't go getting the wrong idea. Harry's had a lot of bad things written about him. Don't go getting your Dad to publish anything else, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Ronald. I suppose Harry Potter has a lot of bad things said about him, as well?"

"Yeah, well he always has. Malfoy's always badmouthing him, well, he was until this year, anyway."

"Draco is a much nicer person this year," Luna commented.

"Yeah, right. Anyway, since then it's been..." Ron's brow creased as he tried to work out who had taken Draco's place as the person who hated Harry Potter the most.

"Oh," he said, realisation dawning. "Er, well, I suppose I've been giving him a rough ride. Er, blimey. I didn't know I was as bad as Malfoy used to be."

The Fat Lady swung open, and Ginny appeared in the portrait hole, her hair bound up in a bright yellow towel.

"Ron? Did you forget the password? Oh, hi Luna. I didn't see you there."

"Hello," Luna said. "Do you have my wand? I can't find it since we were working on Charms this morning."

"Er, no, I don't. At least..." Ginny paused. "I'll check my bag. I sort of just bundled everything together at the end of the session. One second."

It was nearer five minutes before Ginny returned, in which time Josh, Seamus and Dean left the common room for some Quidditch practise and the Creevey brothers came back from studying with Harry. Dennis had foot long tufts of hair sprouting from his ears and nostrils, but seemed to find it highly hilarious.

Eventually, Ginny came back, slightly breathless and with two wands in her hands.

"This one's yours," she said, holding one out to Luna. Luna nodded, and tucked it behind her ear.

"Thank you. Now I can hunt down the Lethifold that nearly strangled Sally-Anne last night."

Ginny sighed, tolerantly.

"Luna, she said herself that she just slipped and got wrapped up in the shower curtain."

"Perhaps," Luna said. "But father said that Lethifolds can be very clever. We can't be too careful. Well, goodbye Ginny, see you in class tomorrow. Goodbye Ronald."

"Loony," Ginny shook her head as her friend wandered away. "Ron, what are you staring at?"

Ron had been standing motionless and silent since Ginny had appeared at the portrait hole the first time. Ginny snapped her fingers in front of his face several times before he looked up.

"What?"

"Earth to Ron? Did Luna make you space out? There's a cure for that, you know? I hit you over the head with your broom."

"Er... What?"

Ginny sighed, slightly less tolerantly this time. "What happened?"

"Er, Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"I've been a complete git to Harry, haven't I? And you and Hermione."

"Yes," Ginny said. "Never mind. He doesn't seem to care, and we're pretty used to you after all these years."

"Sorry," Ron said.

"It's okay," Ginny said. "You got there in the end."

* * *

January for Harry meant a return to the routine interrupted by the Christmas break. On the first day of term he had conducted two study sessions, and every day thereafter saw him working hard with anyone who wanted his help. By the end of the month, it was not at all unusual to see Harry lecturing to sixth and seventh years.

By the end of the month, Harry was exhausted, hard work and a mild dose of 'flu laying him low.

Harry had had his last bout of exhaustion during the Christmas holidays. It had swept over him suddenly, whereas this had been gradual. He had felt it building up over several days, but by the Saturday, with Ravenclaw playing Slytherin at Quidditch, he was too tired even to get out of bed.

Instead, he watched Dean, Seamus and Ron getting ready to leave together. He smiled politely at Dean's jokes, and weathered a ferocious glare from Ron, who seemed to feel that Harry was feigning sickness in order to avoid studying Quidditch. Harry waved his TrueSight glass at Ron, who mellowed somewhat, but still didn't look happy.

As the door banged shut behind Ron, Harry scowled as well. It had occurred to Harry over the last month that the vision he'd had when he fought the Boggart, that his friends would abandon him and join Voldemort, might be brought about by the way that he was alienating them. He felt himself to be caught in a quandary, quite unsure of which way to move.

_At least if I stay apart from them, and I do have to fight them, then I won't feel too bad about it,_ he told himself, struggling to ignore the pang of guilt that bit hard as he watched Ron, Hermione, Dean and Ginny take their seats in the stands.

Pushing thoughts of his former friends from his mind, Harry found himself thinking about something that he'd been trying to avoid. McGonagall's threat of failing him if he couldn't perform magic by the time his exams came around was beginning to way heavily on his mind. June seemed much nearer at the end of January than it had done at the start of the month. Harry was no nearer to casting a real spell than he had been after awakening from his Boggart-induced coma. Harry resolved to try not to worry about it -_After all, what can I _do_ about it?­_- before settling back to watch the match in comfort.

A hard fought match saw Ravenclaw win with the capture of the Snitch. Cho just squeezed past Terrence Higgs on the inside to take the 150 points, giving Ravenclaw the win by 300 points to 180. Harry smiled, happy for Cho and her team, even though he'd avoided talking to Cho since the Ball. He felt as though he'd told her something he shouldn't have done, and didn't want her trying to get him to talk to anyone else.

_Like Dumbledore. Or Ron and Hermione. Or Ginny._

Harry pulled a face, and forced himself to think about something else. He thought about what the day's result meant for the Quidditch house championship. Looking at the results to that point, Ravenclaw had two wins, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff each had a win and a loss, and Slytherin had lost both their matches. The outcome of the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin in March would go a long way to determining the outcome of the house Quidditch championship.

Harry yawned, and sneezed. He checked his planner and decided that he had time to go to Madam Pomfrey for another dose of Pepper-Up potion before his first study session of the day. He dressed quickly, hopping about on the cold stone floor as he tried to find a clean pair of socks, and headed out of the common room before too many people returned from the match. On the way he passed Neville, struggling back into the common room after accidentally using trick root-tickling fertiliser - which Seamus and Dean had given him - while helping Professor Sprout repot some Tongue Smacking Tulips. Two of the surprisingly strong plants had tried to pull Neville's tongue out of his mouth in protest at what they had seen as a joke against them. At least, that's what Harry thought Neville was saying. It was hard to tell as his tongue was so swollen.

Madam Pomfrey was grudgingly happy to see Harry, as he had become a much more obedient patient than in previous years. He joined the queue of shivering Quidditch watchers and waited for Madam Pomfrey to brew up a new batch of the fiery red potion.

"Back again, Harry?"

Harry turned, and smiled at the sight of Professor Dumbledore. His nose was exactly the colour of his scarlet robes, while the rest of his face was as pale as his silvery hair.

"I thought a dose of Pepper-Up potion might be of some use," Dumbledore confided, standing beside Harry in the queue. "Poppy always tells me that prevention is preferable to cure, after all."

"With me it's always cure," Harry said. "She doesn't think that I even try to prevent myself ending up here."

"So I have noticed," Dumbledore noted, wryly. "Still, you have a great long way to go before you can claim to have spent more time here then any other student."

"What's the record?" Harry asked as Madam Pomfrey fussed over Morag MacDougal.

"Four years. Consecutively," Professor Dumbledore said promptly. Harry's mouth gaped as Dumbledore went on. "Stephen 'Sickly' Sickle, a Ravenclaw lad who reacted poorly to a bite from a wyvern. Remarkably, he managed to stay on top of his work, and maintain a wide circle of friends. In that I rather suspect that he was helped by the wide variety of interestingly disgusting symptoms he exhibited over those four years. Sickly Spotting was a favourite pastime."

Harry smiled at the story as Hannah Abbott walked past, steam hissing from her ears.

"Sir?"

"Yes Harry?"

"How did Sickle manage with exams?"

"Arrangements were made. I believe that he had some exams here in the hospital wing, and when he had to be elsewhere then he had a great many people willing to assist him."

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes Harry?"

"How am _I_ going to manage with my exams?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry quizzically.

"I can't cast spells," Harry said, wondering if Dumbledore had somehow forgotten this side effect of Harry's own protracted stay in the hospital wing.

Dumbledore peered carefully at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Harry, you certainly _can_ cast spells," he said at last. "During your last Quidditch match you flew as well as I have ever seen you fly. You could not have done that without using magic. The magic is there for you to use, when you wish to use it. Ah, your turn, I believe."

Harry stepped forward to take his potion, Dumbledore's words weighing heavy on his mind. The Potion tickled his sinuses as he drank it, and he had a violent sneezing fit that made him blow steam rings out of his ears, nose and mouth all at the same time. When it faded away, he turned around to speak to the Headmaster. Dumbledore, however, had vanished.

Frowning, Harry headed off for his first study session of the day. As he entered the library, he was so caught up with his thoughts that he didn't even notice the blonde research wizard who had argued with Lockhart sneering at him. He sat down to await the rest of his class, steam boiling from his ears as his brain worked furiously on what the Headmaster had said to him.

* * *

Remus and Lucius stared at one another across the table.

"I am pleased to see that you have found gainful employment," Lucius said at last. "Reading between the lines of what he _said_, Draco seemed to learn a great deal during your year at Hogwarts."

Remus ignored him. They both knew that the Ministry had not hired Remus. Officially, he wasn't in the interrogation room with Malfoy. Officially, Mad-Eye Moody was. But Moody had been 'delayed' and Remus had arrived under cover of an invisibility cloak. Malfoy was mildly impressed with how thoroughly Dumbledore had penetrated the Ministry in order that Lupin could do this.

"Draco took a half-blood to the Hogmanay Ball," Remus said, looking down at a sheaf of notes. "They danced, they kissed, they seemed to enjoy themselves a great deal."

"You are spying on my son?"

"Draco's movements attract attention," Remus said, giving Lucius a toothy grin. "There are still people who think that he's playing a game. Imagine that: People not trusting a Malfoy."

"Malfoy in name only," Lucius sighed exasperatedly. "Do you really hope to use Draco against me? It is some four months since Alastor Moody found that that would not work."

"I just thought that you would like to know," Remus said. "He's well. Not suffering from having the Malfoy estates seized."

"Draco has his own money," Lucius said coolly. "He will want for nothing in life, provided he is prepared to work hard. Of course, if he had stayed loyal to me and believed in my innocence..." he tailed off.

"Well, when you are freed, you may tell him so," Remus said, looking down at his notes again. "One other thing, what happened the night Voldemort was resurrected?"

Lucius didn't flinch at the sound of Voldemort's name. Instead, he said "This has been gone over a dozen times before."

"Your trial is not until May," Remus said. "You have five months of solitary confinement ahead of you. Are you so eager to return to your cell?"

Lucius' expression didn't change. "The Dark Mark burned, and the next thing I knew, I was watching Voldemort and Harry Potter dueling. I would imagine that one of the other Death Eaters was using the Imperius curse upon me."

"It's strange," Remus said mildly. "For such a famously strong willed family as the Malfoys, for you to be susceptible to the Imperius curse."

"It is strange that Harry Potter was able to defeat He Who Must Not Be Named when he was a mere infant," Malfoy replied. "It is strange that Dumbledore continues to employ that oaf Rubeus Hagrid. Many things are strange in this world, Mr. Lupin. Your presence here is strange, or at least it would seem to be if Minister Fudge were to walk in, I imagine."

Remus smiled. "I was told to tell you that your lawyer will be arriving at one o'clock," he said. "I'm impressed that he has agreed to work for free," he added, standing up and pulling his coat around his shoulders. "After all, all your funds were seized on the day of your arrest. One might almost say that it was, oh, strange."

Remus departed, leaving Lucius alone in his cell for ten minutes before his lawyer arrived.

_To be continued..._

**Silver Warrior:** Plenty of people have tried and will try to make Harry come to his senses, but it's going to take a combined effort...

**Aggiebell****:** Maybe I should stop posting the story... You might not be in the best position to handle such intense emotions ;-)

**dino-usn****:** You'll see Dean and Cho working together before the end of the story

**Fraggle****-Rock-Chick:** Thanks!

**voxenking****:** We're about two-thirds done now

**Eric2:** It ends in the Temple of Le Fay. Yeah, there's still that minor plot point to deal with :-p

**Frantic:** Oooh... Depends how you define 'soon'. It might be a few story months before Harry gets his head sorted, but he - and a lot of other characters - took some big steps in this chapter.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five: Veasleys' Vigorous ...

**_Chapter Twenty-Five: Veasleys' Vigorous Valentines_**

George stared at the letter for some time, deciding whether or not to ask Fred for his advice. In the end, as he watched Fred fussing over two witches who had been in the year ahead of them at Hogwarts, he decided to do this one on his own.

_George,_ the letter began

_Just your favourite sister here with an update on life at Hogwarts. You said you wanted to hear all about life here now you and Fred aren't blowing things up every day? Well, here goes._

_The Hogmanay Ball was a big success. Sort of. Luna Lovegood came with Draco Malfoy. I guess Malfoy is on the up-and-up after all. Who'dve thought it? Mum was right: Everyone deserves a second chance._

_Harry and Cho Chang were together. Ron reckons he saw them snogging in the rose garden. I have to be honest, I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach when I heard that. Hermione says Ron was wrong, though, and I'm choosing to believe her._

_(Yeah, I know, I know. I'm bored of me and Harry as well, believe me. I'm trying, okay? Keeping busy, like you said. Just because it worked for you, brother mine...)_

_Anyway, Ron and Hermione are bickering, probably. I think it's about Harry -everything's about Harry, right? - but I think Ron's doing okay. He talked to Luna, of all people, and whether or not she meant to do it, he's doing much better. Hasn't said anything bad about Harry in two weeks, which is a record since Halloween._

_So, that's everything that Harry's done or influenced in the last month. What about me? Well, I got an O and two E's on my work this month. I know it's not living down to the example you set, but I've never had your talent for making loud noises. I leave that to Seamus and Dean - are you selling to anyone _but_ those two? Last night they let off a Birthday Bomb in the middle of Dueling Club and fifty people tried to hex it. You should have seen some of the weird effects all those ricocheting spells caused Dean and Seamus got three weeks detention, by the way - and just get on with my work._

_Still, sometimes it helps to be a Weasley. We seem to have that knack of being in the midst of things, don't we? Yesterday I walked in on one of my room-mates sobbing her heart out because her boyfriend broke up with her. Sounds familiar, right? Anyway, it's her own fault for dating a Slytherin seventh year. We all said she'd get her heart broken._

_Not that I said that to her. She really does deserve better. The younger Slytherins are pretty nice, to be honest, but the ones who were around with Marcus Flint and the slimy version of Draco Malfoy as their example are mostly hopeless. Terrence Higgs is cool, though, even if taking Pansy Parkinson to the Hogmanay Ball just to dump her means that he's a Slytherin deep down._

_Anything else to report? Everyone's asking if there's going to be another Weasley Valentines Day this year. If there is, please keep the Cupids Kisses away from here. Bad enough that half the girls in the school asked Harry to the Ball, I don't need to see him deluged with those things. Everyone seems to know he's not going out with Cho - Ron was the last to work it out - so he's fair game again._

_I hope that you notice I'm not completely against the idea of Valentines Day? Aren't I good? I'm just going to hide in the dormitory all day. It's a Friday, so I'll only be missing Ancient Runes and History of Magic._

_Hermione's just looked over my shoulder and scowled at me. Isn't it amazing how it's okay for her to read my letter?_

_But she's right. I'm not allowed to bunk off on Valentines. No matter how much I want to. I have to face Harry._

_I understand now what you said last summer about having good days and bad days. I'm okay when I'm busy, but sometimes, like now when I'm writing to you, well, it still hurts. I'm okay, though. I've got lots of friends who I love like mad, so I don't need to be Harry Potter's girlfriend to be happy._

_It helped, though._

_So that I don't end on a negative note, Ron's just walked down from the boys' dormitory. I don't think he's noticed that someone put frogs-spawn soap in the boys' bathroom yet. _

_Oh, now he has._

_And Dean and Seamus have legged it out the portrait hole. There's a surprise._

_And there goes Ron, chasing after them._

_Perhaps you can speak to him when you see him? Tell him that there's no way that a broomstick will fit where he's threatening to shove it._

_Actually, I suppose it might, but still, nasty, nasty thought._

_Wincingly yours,_

_Ginny._

George smiled, picked up his quill, and scribbled a quick reply.

_Ginny,_

_Yeah, we're coming down for Valentines Day. Try and stop us! We've got loads of new toys to show off, and don't worry, the Cupids Kisses look like they'll be well sold out before the big day itself, but our other normal lines are doing really well right now as well. And to think we thought that Valentines would be a quiet time. I guess there's a lot off spurned witches and wizards out there, out for revenge..._

_We're offering discounts to the recently jilted, by the way, don't know if you're interested?_

_Anyway, about Harry, it does take time to heal a broken heart, and I didn't have it anywhere near as bad about Alicia as you did - do - about Harry. I'm not surprised you're still thinking about him._

_Fred and I have decided to have a talk with him when we get there. Don't worry, we won't leave any marks. Then again, maybe we should. Scare off all those evil wenches trying to steal our baby sister's man._

_(Fred, by the way, is flirting with two ex-Slytherin girls. We know that some Slytherins are okay.)_

_About Harry, though, well, he's a git, but I guess he must have had a good reason, in _his_ mind at least. I'm glad you don't hate him. He has a lot to put up with already, and I reckon that there'll come a time when he wants to make up with us. It'll be easier if we don't go completely overboard on him, Howlers notwithstanding. Did you hear about that?_

_Anyway, better go. Angelina's due soon, and if Fred's still flirting when she shows up..._

_Bacon savingly yours,_

_George_

* * *

Ginny smiled as she read over the letter. Having the twins back at Hogwarts would certainly liven things up. Ginny was almost looking forward to Valentines Day.

* * *

Harry awoke with a start. His eyes snapped open on a world of pink. He reached out for his glasses, but his hands met empty air as he realised that the pinkness was due to a set of robes thrown over his head. He pulled it away to reveal two blurs grinning down at him. One of them thrust Harry's glasses at him, which he gratefully put on. Belatedly, he realised that he was in the common room, rather than his dormitory.

"Fred? George?" Harry's eyes widened as he took in their robes. "What on earth are you wearing?"

The twins looked delighted at Harry's reaction to their attire. George turned around so that Harry could get the full effect, while Fred sketched an almost ladylike curtsey.

George was wearing white robes that dazzled Harry slightly. He had big feathery wings sprouting from his back. A golden halo hovered above his head, and a glittering harp hung from his belt. His hair was long and blonde, and Harry noticed that the dye job was much better than it had been the year before.

Fred had kept his usual red hair, but otherwise his appearance was every bit as dramatic as George's, although very much in contrast to that of his twin. His robes were a matte black that seemed to absorb any light that came too close. He had long, metallic, sharp looking fingernails and two pointed horns stuck out of his forehead. But Harry's eyes were drawn to Fred's feet rather than his devilish head. The pointed tip of what Harry could only assume was a tail swished lazily beneath the hem of Fred's robes, and if Harry squinted, he could make out-

"Hooves?" he asked incredulously.

"Cloven ones, no less," Fred replied, hitching up his robes to reveal that he had the legs of a goat.

"Full body Transfiguration," Harry said. "Impressive."

"He's impressed. Fred, we've impressed Harry Potter. Will wonders never cease?" George grinned.

"I'm still not sure it was worth it. It's still a right pain to sit down when your legs bend the wrong way."

Harry started to smile, but caught himself. He hadn't heard from either twin since the Howler in November, and wasn't quite sure what to expect from them.

"Now then, young Harry," Fred said, clapping Harry on the shoulder and accidentally ripping his pyjamas. "Oops, 'scuse fingers. Now, we don't want to create a false impression, Harry. We're still absolutely furious at you about the way you treated Ron and Ginny, but it's Valentines Day, after all. And it's a long held tradition that on Valentines Day the three of us dress up in ridiculous costumes and look like idiots so lots of people can snog each other."

Harry's mood darkened, his face contorting into a scowl. George and Fred both took a half step backwards.

"Forget it," Harry spat. "Valentines Day didn't exactly bring me a lot of happiness, did it? I felt like an idiot last year, I'm not doing it again. And as for giving me one day off from hating me? Don't do me any favours. Better that everyone hates me. It makes it all that much easier."

Harry stormed off, throwing away the pink robes that the twins had draped him as he left.

"What on earth was that all about?" Fred asked.

"Dunno," George shrugged. "Maybe Ron was right, and he really has gone bonkers. You realise we need someone to put on Lockhart's robes now?"

"Ah, no we don't," Fred said, pointing to where the robes had landed.

Harry had thrown them into the fireplace, and the smouldering embers of the previous evening's fire had caught merrily alight with fresh fuel to burn. The twins watched in respectful silence as Lockhart's face appeared, panicking silently, on the robes, before being consumed by the flames.

"They were horrible robes," George said reverently.

"I wore them to Katie's birthday, do you remember?" Fred said.

"Yeah. Angelina didn't talk to you for a week."

"Was that what it was?" Fred asked, surprised. "I always thought it was me spiking the punch."

"No, she spiked it first, didn't she?"

"That's not fair. We have a strict understanding in our relationship. I spike the punch with Firewhiskey, she spikes the hoops with Quaffles."

"You were distracted."

"Was I?"

"Flirting with Katie's cousin," George reminded him

"Oh, yeah..."

"In fact, that may have been why she didn't talk to you for a week."

"Probably," Fred admitted

"Yeah."

"So, are we going to sell any of this stuff, then?"

"Of course. I'll still miss the robes, though," George said with a sigh.

"Nah, just look on it as business expenses. We can buy new ones tomorrow."

"Can we have Snape on these ones?"

"Ah, the best joke yet. Dress robes with Snape prowling all over them. Another fine Weasley Wizard Wheeze..."

* * *

Ginny came downstairs to a scene of uproar outside the Great Hall. Bright neon signs flashed above the crowd. The largest one read _Veasleys__ Vigorous Valentines_. Under the second sign (_Virtuous_) stood George, dressed like an angel and selling a range of products that all looked surprisingly innocent. As Ginny watched, James Staunton bought a huge card, scribbled a few lines on the inside, and handed it to Padma Patil. Padma blushed, but opened the card, which erupted in a huge shower of confetti that lasted nearly fifteen seconds. Ginny winced at the idea of Filch's fury if cards like that would be going off all day.

"What's up, little sister? You don't like our Virtuous Vomiting Valentine?"

Ginny turned around to find Fred grinning at her, revealing pointed fangs and a forked tongue.

"So, am I looking devilishly handsome or what?" he asked.

Ginny merely raised an eyebrow at her brother.

"_Vengeful_?" she asked, pointing at the sign hanging over his head.

"That's right!" Fred grinned, selling a Vomiting Valentine to a second year Hufflepuff girl. Ginny watched suspiciously as the girl handed it to another Hufflepuff. The boy took it reluctantly, writhing under the hushed gaze of the crowd. He looked like he was going to run away, but the girl grabbed the card and yanked it open, making the card erupt in his face.

Ginny gasped. This card hadn't sprayed confetti. Instead, it had vomited-

"Stinksap," Fred said into the stunned silence. "Took us weeks to get the mix right. Right then," he added, raising his voice. "Vengeful Valentines! Get 'em while you're furious! Fire-breathing snapdragons, Vengeful Vomiting Valentines, itching perfume... Stocks _are_ limited, ladies and gentlemen..."

* * *

It was a chaotic day, the Weasley twins adding their own brand of mayhem to the usual uproar of Valentines at Hogwarts. Dean and Seamus took great delight in sending each other Vengeful Vomiters, while Dennis Creevey received over a dozen Virtuous Vomiters over lunch, after which he was buried under a pile of confetti. Ginny had noticed a number of the younger girls in the school scowling at each other as Dennis opened card after card.

Unsurprisingly, Harry got the most post. Ginny noticed that he set aside two cards unopened. Seamus, snatching one up and opening it, received his second faceful of Stinksap of the day, much to Dean's amusement.

Harry, to everyone's amazement, opened the second card himself, and made no effort to block the Stinksap that he must surely have known was inside.

"Subtlety's never been the twins' strong point," Ron commented.

"True," Ginny said. "Unless it was from the Slytherins."

She pointed at the Slytherin table, where Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson were laughing hysterically at Harry's predicament.

"Catch them buying something off a Weasley?" Ron asked. "Nah, it was Fred and George. And Harry just took it. Wonder why?"

Ron's musing was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Pig, who flew through a high window into the Great Hall. The miniature owl dropped like a stone and looked as though it were about to hit the stone floor. At the last second, Harry sprung sideways from his seat at the head of the Gryffindor table and caught the owl, rolling over and coming smoothly to his feet.

"Nice one!" Ron said reflexively, as Harry stood and brushed himself down. He walked over and handed Pig to Ron.

"Thanks," Ron said, still impressed by Harry's catch.

"Don't mention it," Harry said, before turning and going back to his seat.

Ron gaped after him until Pig, held tightly in Ron's hands, began to hoot shrilly in complaint. Ron released him, and untied the heavy package from his legs.

"About time this got here," Ron said. "Now Hermione will believe that I didn't forget."

"That was really good of Harry, wasn't it?" Ginny said suddenly, as she watched him struggle to keep hold of his thirty-seven cards - she'd kept count - and the many presents - she'd lost count - that he'd received. He looked faintly exasperated, and his mood probably wasn't helped by Peeves the poltergeist cannoning through the doorway and sweeping Harry's load up into the air, scattering cards and presents wildly across the Great Hall until Professor Skeeter banished him with a wave of her wand.

"Sorry?" Ron asked, looking up from Hermione's present for the first time. "Oh, yeah, very good of Harry. But you don't really expect much else from him, do you? Even if he has decided to hate us, he'd still do anything for us."

Ginny watched Harry walking around the Great Hall, apologising and collecting his things.

"I don't think Harry hates us," she said, watching Harry patiently endure Slytherin taunts as he tried to collect his cards from Pansy and Crabbe. "I don't think he hates anyone, really."

"Yeah, well, doesn't matter, does it?" Ron said, not unkindly. "It's not our problem. He's made that perfectly clear."

"I wish I felt like that," Ginny said. "But there's something he's not telling us."

Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Women!" but brightened considerably as Hermione arrived in the Great Hall, passing Harry on his way out.

Ginny watched him leave as Hermione joined them, and barely heard her friend gasp in delight at the necklace Ron had given her. Sighing, Ginny turned back to her dinner.

* * *

Dean found Harry in the boys' toilet, trying to scrape Stinksap from his hair.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"None," Harry grunted. "Maybe I'll just shave it all off, like you."

Dean ran a hand over his almost-bald scalp. For him, wiping off the Stinksap had been a matter of a few seconds with a napkin. Harry looked destined for a long shower.

"Listen, Harry, I'm glad I got you alone."

"What's up?" Harry asked. "Do you need help with the Patronus again? I thought Ginny was helping you with that?"

"She has been. I'm still not getting anywhere, but at least I'm not stopping you from teaching someone you might get results with."

Harry stopped the futile attempt to comb the Stinksap out, and looked at Dean.

"I didn't mind," he said. "You were teaching me a lot. I'm just sorry I couldn't help you. Still, I guess it's good that you and Ginny get to have some time together."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know how hard it is when you're dating someone to get time alone," Harry said. He went back to combing his hair.

"I'm not dating Ginny," Dean said, surprised.

"You're not?" Harry paused, studying Dean's reflection intently.

"No. Harry, she's still crazy about you, mate. I mean, you're a hard act to follow, did you know that? Ginny's good at hiding it, but you're all she thinks about."

Harry attacked his hair again. "She needs to get over me," he said, shortly.

"Yeah, well, easy enough to say," Dean agreed. "It's not so easy to do though, is it?"

"Yeah, well..." Harry trailed off. "Look, it's for the best."

"So I keep hearing," Dean said. "The thing is, Harry, there's a beautiful redhead out there who doesn't agree with you. Now, I don't know what makes you think the way you do nowadays, but I know that if I was lucky enough to have Ginny Weasley feel that way about me, no power on this Earth would make me dump her."

"You don't know what it's like!" Harry snapped, suddenly furious. "Everyone tries to tell me what's right, what I should be doing. Why can't they just trust me? Everyone expects me to be this big hero, and then they second-guess me every time I try and be what they want me to be."

Harry and Dean stood nose to nose. Dean didn't back down from Harry's anger, instead saying quietly "_Your_ way put you in a coma and lost you your magic. You haven't cast a spell in over three months. If You-Know-Who came in here now, how far would _your_ way take you in a fight against him?"

Dean walked off, letting the door bang shut behind him. Harry stood frozen, his chest heaving. His face, already red with anger, grew still redder until, with a scream of rage, he drove his fist into the wall beside him, rewarded with a cracking, splintering noise that seemed to echo in the toilet. He felt the welcome distraction of pain blossom from his split knuckles before he swept from the toilet, his robes billowing around him.

As the door banged shut again, the mirrors on the bathroom wall began to crack, slowly splintering outwards until the glass shattered into a million tiny fragments.

* * *

"Welcome one and all to the fifth Quidditch match of the year," Lee announced to the crowd. "It's a beautiful spring day here at Hogwarts, and we're all looking forward to a fine match. It's a close championship this year, with Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor still capable of winning the title. Slytherin are playing for pride in their final match. Here's to a great performance by both teams!"

Lee tried to inject some spirit into the crowd, but even the usually vocal Slytherins were lifeless. In the three weeks since Valentines Day, there had been a string of attacks by Dark wizards throughout the British Isles. To make matters worse, a number of attacks had been reported for the first time in Ireland and mainland Europe. The Ministry of Magic claimed that the responsible wizards would be captured within days, but the mood in the wizarding community was one of near-mutiny. Too many times had Minister Fudge's reassurances proved to be false. Far more telling, the _Prophet_ claimed, was the silence from the office of Deputy Minister Arthur Weasley. While Mr. Weasley could usually be relied upon for an evenhanded report, there had been no sign of him at the Ministry or at his home for several days. Mrs. Weasley had threatened trespassing reporters with the family ghoul until they had left the Burrow.

Hermione, sitting quietly in the stands beside a subdued Ron, had noticed that Dumbledore had been absent from Hogwarts as long as Mr. Weasley had been absent from the Ministry. She had also noticed that several members of staff, including Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, had been absent at various times over the last few weeks. She had mentioned it very briefly to Ron and Ginny for fear of giving anything away. Ginny, who had been sleeping badly for several nights and had stayed behind to try and catch up on some sleep, seemed slightly cheered by the idea of her father helping to catch the attackers. Ron, who had been extremely worried about Mr. Weasley's disappearance, had taken some small measure of consolation in knowing that he was probably with Dumbledore.

However, even Snape missing their practical Potions lesson - Professor Grubbly-Plank had acted as a substitute and nearly caused paralysis in half the class when she mixed up ingredients - hadn't cheered Ron up very much. He sat beside Hermione now, a distracted look on his face even as the two teams took to their brooms.

"A big hand for Hufflepuff, ladies and gentlemen!" Lee's request was met by a faint smattering of applause. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I'm sure. Anyway, for Hufflepuff today we have the excellent Elenor Branstone in goal, Beaters Hannah Abbott and Ernie McMillan, Susan Bones, Megan Jones and Laura Madley the fetching trio of Chasers, and Seeker and captain Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The Hufflepuff crowd members applauded politely as their players were announced.

"And for Slytherin," Lee paused, as though encouraging the booing that usually came with Slytherin's name. There were none. The apathy was palpable, whether due to Slytherin's poor Quidditch record in recent years or because of the recent attacks.

"For Slytherin then," Lee repeated. "Graham Pritchard in goal, Beaters Malcolm Braddock - quite the most talented player to come through the ranks in the last couple of years - and Callum Williams. The Slytherin Chasers are Blaise Zabini, Joseph Arthur and Adrian Pucey, and the Slytherin captain and Seeker is Terrence Higgs. Higgs and Pucey are in their seventh year, folks, and it's their final game before they finish school this June, so let's give them a big hand!"

There was another smattering of applause. The Slytherin fans were notable only by their near complete silence.

The match kicked off, and the apathy level of the watching fans, if anything, actually seemed to increase.

After ten scoreless minutes, even Lee was struggling to make the match sound exciting. The two pairs of Beaters were playing particularly well, which meant that the attacking players couldn't settle into a rhythm. Every pass saw a Beater drawing a bead on the recipient. Every offensive move was met by a well-aimed Bludger. Soon, people began to drift away from the match. Dean, sitting with Seamus and Lavender, was watching the crowd far more than the match. Looking around, he saw Harry sitting at the top of the Gryffindor stand, well away from the rest of his housemates. Scowling, Dean shook his head, annoyed at Harry's determination to stay set apart from everyone else.

"This is dreadful," he heard Seamus mutter. "Want to go work on that Potions essay?" he asked. Dean cast one more look at the pitch, where Braddock and Hannah Abbott were whacking a Bludger back and forth relentlessly, and nodded.

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

Dean, Lavender and Seamus weren't the only ones leaving the match early. As they walked through the gates, Dean noticed Cho Chang walking with a couple of the other Ravenclaw seventh years. He was struck by an idea, and moved over to speak to her.

"Cho? Excuse me, I'm Dean Thomas."

"Hi," she said, a little guardedly. "I know who you are. I've seen you at Dueling Club."

"I'm a friend of Harry and Ginny," Dean said. "Well, I _was_ a friend of Harry's -"

"Look, I'm sorry, but if you just want me to try and get him to talk to you, I can't," Cho said. "He's stopped talking to me as well as everyone else."

"Er, no," Dean said. "Sorry. I was hoping that you could knock some sense into him about Ginny."

"Well, like I said, he's not talking to me."

"Yeah, but he's not talking to anyone, not about this sort of thing," Dean persisted. "He wouldn't say more than two words to anyone if it wasn't related to work in someway, but you got him to the Hogmanay Ball. You must be able to talk to him."

Cho scowled slightly.

"I tried to get Harry to open up," she said. "I tried to get him to stop acting the way he has been. It didn't work. I'm sorry, I really am. But I can't even get him to talk to me, let alone let me try and fix things up between him and Ginny."

Dean's shoulders dropped.

"She's really devastated by the way he's acting, She tries to hide it, but she's looking for him all the time, and she won't admit it to anyone, even herself. But it's obvious."

Cho stopped walking, and looked at Dean as though seeing him for the first time.

"And when she sees him," she said, her previously strident voice suddenly much lower, "it just makes it worse, because she can't be with him." Her previously bright eyes seemed devoid of life for a moment, before she shook her head slightly.

Dean nodded unhappily.

"I understand," Cho said eventually. "I'll do what I can to help. I'm not sure what I _can_ do, but... Keep me informed, okay?"

"Sure," Dean said. Cho turned, and walked away, not hurrying to catch up with her friends but rather walking alone. Dean looked after her curiously, feeling that he had gained a powerful ally in his quest to reunite Harry and Ginny, but not entirely able to say exactly why.

* * *

Ron watched dejectedly as the extremely dull game played out before him.

"Don't know why we bothered coming," he said. "We've already played both of these teams. There's nothing new to be learned. We might as well work on that Potions essay."

"We could go for a walk, then," Hermione said. "I just thought it would be nice to get out. It's been a horrible winter, and it's the first nice day of the year."

"Yeah, s'pose it is," Ron admitted. "Okay, let's go. I'm not going to sit around here and watch this rubbish any longer. It's just making me feel worse. What I need is some quality time spent with my girlfriend."

As they stood up, Terrence Higgs threw himself into a steep dive. Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had been at the other end of the stadium, could only watch in frustration as the Slytherin captain snatched the Snitch suddenly. The Slytherin team swamped their captain, celebrating his winning his final match for their house.

"And Slytherin win, one hundred and fifty points to zero. Well done Terrence Higgs, it's a shame to see you go, I'm sure," Lee said. "Right, folks. Let's be off. It's a lovely day, let's all go and do something interesting, shall we?"

_To be continued..._

**Frantic:** You'll find out a great deal more about the Ministry's blonde research wizard in the next chapter or two. Another week's wait first, I'm afraid...

**dino-usn****:** Harry's magic will be back by the end of this story. As to why he can't use it, it's a mental block, nothing more or less. When he wants to use it badly enough, it'll be there. Otherwise, it'll manifest itself unconsciously like in the breaking of the mirrors in this chapter.

**Gryphonmistress****: **It is a little depressing, but it does get better. I promise.

**Eric2:** The next few chapters will see Harry questioning himself more and more, culminating in a climactic scene where he... But that would be telling ;-)

**Silver Warrior: **I suspect Voldemort has trained all his followers to be able to withstand Occlumency. Dumbledore could break through Lucius' barriers, but Dumbledore doesn't work for the Ministry, who are still denying Voldemort's return.

**SARTek****:** Welcome, and I'm glad you're enjoying the ride. Your solution for making Harry come to his senses is a very popular one. We'll have to wait and see.

**Aggiebell****:** Harry's disappointed a lot of people, so you're not alone. JKRs vision of Dean (www.JKRowling.com) fits pretty well with what I'd imagined of him. Luna's had her say in this story, although she's dating Draco, so she'll be around. I tried to keep Harry's flying as 'secret' as possible. No-one else picked up on his using magic at the Quidditch match either, but he did, and he did it to save the lives of people he cares about, much as he might try and deny it. What will it take to get his powers back permanently? Hmmm...

(By the way, if you go into labour when you're reading one of my stories, will you name the kid after me? :-p )


	27. Chapter Twenty Six: Connections Revealed

**__**

**_Chapter Twenty-Six: Connections Revealed_**

**__**

It had been thought that an April Fool's Day without the Weasley twins would be a quiet affair. Filch the caretaker had even arranged to take the afternoon off, apparently believing that there wouldn't be too much work to do.

In this he was mistaken.

Fred and George had been the undisputed kings of jokes, pranks and mischief during their seven years at Hogwarts. With their departure, however, the title was open for someone new to claim

The inaugural - and highly unofficial - inter-house Chaos Cup had been arranged. Each house had nominated their leading troublemakers, and they all had to create magical chaos in the most public manner possible. It was a challenge that they rose to admirably.

Dean and Seamus got off to an early start, awakening the entire school by sending the school owls, laden with Fred and George's most explosive products, to every dormitory in the school. Points were lost, however, as Ron and Neville both had to go to Madam Pomfrey for minor burns treatment. The organisers of the tournament had expressly forbidden the causing of physical harm, and Seamus admitted making a mistake in sending the strongest explosives to their own dormitory.

Blaise Zabini put forth a valiant effort, but lost control of the fireworks set to go off in the Great Hall during breakfast. Points were deducted for poor execution and lack of originality, but not for causing physical harm as Blaise was the only person to suffer any injuries.

Hufflepuff entrant Zacharias Smith earned maximum points for originality, but his unleashing of a pack of Cornish pixies during his History of Magic class failed to cause any chaos. Instead, the pixies panicked at the sight of the spectral Professor Binns, and fought each other to get back in their cage. Smith was in a filthy mood for the rest of the day, not helped by the laughter that had greeted his failed attempt.

The undisputed winner was Ravenclaw Orla Quirke, who earned maximum points for daring, execution and originality. The third year girl managed to add fresh Stinksap to every cauldron in her year's Potions class with the Hufflepuffs. The extra ingredient caused a string of explosions and a great sea of froth that filled all of Hogwarts' dungeons and bubbled up onto the floor above. Snape, in his fury, called for the expulsion of every Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third year, a punishment that was reduced by Professor Flitwick to two months detention for Orla when she owned up to spiking the potions. Orla returned to her dormitory after her first detention that night to find an orange and pink pewter mug flashing brightly on her bed. It was marked with _Fred and George Weasley Memorial Chaos Cup_ and, after working out how to control the flashing lights, Orla carried it with her everywhere.

Dean, Seamus, Blaise and Zacharias all said that they were intent on winning the trophy the following year. Seamus and Dean illustrated their point by turning the hair of their fellow sixth years green without their noticing.

* * *

Harry was in good spirits the following day. Snape was still in a foul mood and he had sought out every small failure during double Potions that afternoon, but the class had been preparing Polyjuice potion for the last several lessons and Snape had been unable to find fault in Harry's work. Ron and Hermione had escaped Snape's wrath as well, but everyone else had had to take extra work. Harry had already crossed Seamus and Lavender off his list of study sessions that week, and suspected that Neville, Blaise, Ernie and the other sixth years who were studying Potions would be canceling their sessions as well.

Other than Potions, the day had been pleasant enough. Hagrid had obtained a shoal of Malaclaws for them to study in Care of Magical Creatures. These beasts vaguely resembled lobsters, but anyone who received a bite from them would suffer bad luck for the next several days. Goyle was stupid enough to prod one repeatedly, and was bitten by it. The class watched in amazement as a small meteor fell from the sky and landed heavily on Goyle's foot. So shocked was he that it was several seconds before he bellowed in pain, and Crabbe had to help him up to the hospital wing. A particularly unlucky combination of strong winds, freak migration patterns and illness on the part of the birds passing over Hogwarts at that moment meant that both Slytherins would also need a long shower before being seen in polite company again.

_Definitely a good way to start the day,_ Harry grinned.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had fallen between lunch and Potions. Harry had, for the first time, dueled Dean to a standstill. While he had been roundly defeated by his roommate and Professor Skeeter in every other duel during the lesson, he felt proud that his constant work was paying off. While other students had chosen to focus on other weapons - Seamus had proven very adept with a quarterstaff, Ernie with a pair of Japanese Sai daggers - Harry felt vindicated in his decision to stick with Godric Gryffindor's sword. Harry's right hand tingled as he remembered dashing Dean's sword from to the floor, and the look on his roommate's face as he realised that he'd actually lost the duel.

To cap it all, a short letter from Sirius - his first since going into St Mungo's - had brought the news that he was up and about, and would soon be able to receive visitors. Much more than anything else, this had improved Harry's mood considerably. He was certain that worrying about Sirius had made him more ill then he would otherwise had been.

The only cloud on the horizon for Harry was in knowing that he would soon have to break off links with Sirius. From what Sirius' letter had said, Remus hadn't told him about the way Harry had been acting since Halloween. It seemed that Remus was determined that Harry would have to justify himself to Sirius, and Harry knew that his godfather would be the hardest person to convince.

_He spent twelve years locked away in Azkaban. He knows what it's like to be isolated. It's going to be hard to convince him to accept my decision, that this is the life I'm choosing for myself. _

But that was in the future, and now it was late, nearly too late to grab some dinner. Harry had conducted a long Arithmancy review session with Colin, Vickie and a group of other fifth years. In truth, he'd learnt much more from them then they had from him, but his presence had seemed to inspire Colin, the smaller boy mastering several intricate Arithmantical concepts with Harry's encouragement. Harry had joined in the applause when Colin finally overcame, without help, a problem that had plagued him all year.

When the study group finally broke up, Harry had stayed behind to tidy up the classroom, and now he was walking towards Professor Trelawney's classroom. For all his resolutions to master all the classes offered at Hogwarts, Harry knew that he couldn't ever begin to comprehend Divination. He was grateful to be away from Trelawney's wild prophecies of his death, and shivered slightly as he approached her room. Having to deal with the aftermath of her first 'real' prophecy over the school year had been quite enough for him.

Harry's mind moved quickly on from Trelawney, and settled instead on a sixth year Arithmancy text that he'd borrowed from Terry Boot. His irregular bouts of exhaustion had finally disappeared and, while his sleep had been troubled during the recent spate of attacks by Voldemort's forces, he was now fully rested and feeling as well as he ever had. He was almost looking forward to reading the textbook (_"Even More Really Evilly Complicated Numbers: To Be Honest, These Ones _Are_ Just Here To Cause You Hassle"_) even though he knew that he would struggle with most of the words in the book, let alone the numbers. So preoccupied was Harry with thoughts of the book that he didn't notice the trapdoor opening as he passed underneath it.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were sitting down to dinner when Ginny arrived in the Great Hall. She was alone, as she always seemed to be these days. The sleepless nights that she had been suffering from had left her tired and irritable, and she had withdrawn from her friends, she said, until she was in a better mood. Weeks later, and she didn't seem to be cheering up at all. Even Ron, whose anger with Harry had been replaced with anxiety for his parents and his brothers, all of whom were tied to the resistance movement, had noticed how unlike herself she had become.

She sat opposite them, and offered a wan smile. They ate in silence for a time, before Hermione said "Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing."

"You've been off colour for weeks now. Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm not sick, Hermione. I'm just feeling stressed."

Ron looked up, giving up his pretense of not listening. "Stressed over what?"

"OWLs, Dad, Quidditch, Harry... Take your pick," Ginny sighed. "It's all getting on top of me. I know that Dad's helping fight the Death Eaters, so every time there's an attack, it seems like I can't sleep. All the rest is pretty standard, but not knowing about Mum and Dad is really horrible."

"I'm worried too," Ron admitted. "But Dad's not an Auror. He wouldn't be fighting the Death Eaters."

"I know," Ginny said. "I can't help it, though. If he were caught, what could he do? He can't fight like Mad-Eye or Sirius."

"He'll be fine," Ron said. Dropping his voice even lower than the whispers they'd been conversing in, he added "Dumbledore wouldn't ask him to do anything dangerous. That's what Moody and Dead Eye Diggle are for. There's plenty of Aurors on our side." He glanced surreptitiously at Hermione, and then winked at Ginny. "Remember the ones staying at home over Christmas?"

Ginny grinned slightly.

* * *

The skin on the back of Harry's neck prickled. He stopped, and looked behind him. The silvery ladder from Trelawney's class descended from the ceiling. Without quite knowing why, Harry darted down a side corridor. He peered back around the corner, staying deep in the shadows. In nearly six years at Hogwarts, he had only known Professor Trelawney to leave her room once. For some reason the idea of her doing so again just as Harry passed by made him feel uneasy.

_Is she missing me in her classes so much that she's decided to ambush me?_

But the sight of two figures descending the ladder dispelled any thought of Trelawney from his mind. The figures were far too large to be his scrawny former Divination teacher, and they moved with more purpose then Trelawney ever did.

Harry shook his head, and was about to turn away. Between Morgan Le Fay, his work and the study sessions hat he seemed to be conducting with every student in the school, he had enough to worry about without taking an interest in Professor Trelawney's social life. In fact, he was quite glad that she had people visiting her. He'd always imagined that she had quite a lonely life, alone in her room.

Then one of the figures spoke, and all thoughts of there having been paying a social visit to Trelawney flew from his mind.

* * *

Ginny looked up from her dinner, a shiver coursing down her spine as she lost track of what Ron and Hermione were talking about. After several seconds, she blinked, and realised that Hermione was talking to her.

"Ginny? Ginny!"

"Sorry, what?"

"What's wrong?"

"I, I don't know," Ginny said, unable to put her finger on the source of her sudden discomfort. "I think someone just walked over my grave," she added.

"Ask Nick," Ron grinned, nodding to where Nearly Headless Nick was chatting with Lavender and Parvati.

Ginny managed a weak smile, and turned back to her dinner, trying to decide what it was that was making her feel so very uneasy all of a sudden.

* * *

"Idiot! Now you'll have to leave, of course. You'll have to go into hiding. The Dark Lord may help you, but I wouldn't count on it. You've put all his plans in jeopardy, Green, and I shouldn't imagine that he'll be grateful."

Harry's hand settled on the pommel of Godric Gryffindor's sword, the familiar tingle making him shiver.

_Feels like the first time that I held my wand. Guess there's magic in this sword. I hope it's enough._

The two men who had come down from Trelawney's room passed into the moonlight shining through the windows. Harry's eyes widened as he recognised them. The one who had been silent was one of the stupid-looking research wizards. The one who was talking... Harry cursed himself for his stupidity.

_How in the name of Merlin did I not see it before?_

It was the research wizard who had argued with Lockhart and insulted Hermione. His long, blonde hair, normally bound up in a ponytail, hung loose around his face.

He was part of Minister Fudge's inner circle.

He was the man that Harry had seen stabbed in the arm by Voldemort.

He was a Death Eater.

* * *

Ginny looked up sharply, a bead of sweat appearing at her hairline, and trickling down her forehead.

This time it was Ron who noticed her evident unease.

"Ginny, what's wrong? Do you want to go to Madam P-"

Ginny held up a hand to silence her brother. Her expression was fixed and far away.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the shadows, Godric Gryffindor's sword held before him, glinting in the moonlight.

"What have you done?" he asked. The two men spun around.

"Blast," the blonde man said. "I should have known. The Dark Lord warned me about you, Potter. You have a nasty habit of showing up where you're least wanted.

"Yeah, that's me," Harry said. "Anything to upset your precious Dark Lord."

"If that's the case, Potter, then tonight you've failed. Miserably. Green, I think I've just thought of a way of saving your worthless life. Idiotic though your torture of that so-called Seer was, I imagine that if you bring Harry Potter's dead body to our master, all shall be forgiven."

Green chuckled roughly. Before Harry could react, the blonde Death Eater had drawn his wand, and had it pointed between Harry's eyes.

"For the record, Potter, my name is Aptar Quayle. I think it's only fair that you know the name of your killer."

"Harry's in trouble," Ginny said. Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a great distance.

"You what?" Ron said.

"I, I don't... Ron, Harry's in trouble!" Ginny said, much louder. A few people looked around, but Ginny ignored them.

"_Expelliarmus__!_"

Harry hadn't been ready. Quayle's spell caught him and Gryffindor's sword fell from his hands.

_Oh, damn._

"_Avada__ Kedavra!_"

* * *

This time it was the other man, Green, who cast the spell. Harry was saved only because he was staggering backwards from Quayle's attack. The green bolt hissed past him, and Harry gasped as it exploded against the wall just beside him.

_That was too close. Concentrate, Potter. What do you do when you're unarmed and facing two trained wizards? Oh, yeah, run. _

"Idiot," Quayle hissed. "_This_ is how you stop someone like Potter here. _Crucio__!_"

In the Great Hall, Ginny screamed.

Harry buckled, his body hitting the ground, his senses firing wildly as he was overwhelmed. His thoughts were scrambled, he was unable to form a sentence, a word, a sound. He shook, helpless, at the feet of Voldemort's followers.

It took him several seconds to realise that the curse had been lifted. Cautiously, achingly, he looked up, expecting to be cursed again at any moment.

"We can torture you to insensibility, Potter. No one will hear you scream. It's what we did to your so-called Seer, after all."

Green laughed roughly, clearly delighted by the thought of Trelawney hurt and helpless. Harry felt a surge of fury rising in him, and pushed himself up from the floor.

"Look, Green, the mighty Gryffindor rises. What can we do?"

The two dark wizards laughed. Harry rose, gasping deep breaths, onto his knees and then stood up, aware the whole time of the two wands pointed at him. Slowly, carefully, he drew his own wand and pointed it at Quayle.

"Potter, honestly," Quayle's laughter stopped suddenly, and he snapped at Harry. "While I can't speak for my associate, I am not stupid. I know full well that you've lost your powers. You can hardly go for five minutes in this place without hearing one infernal child or another mooning over you. Bad enough that I've spent these last six months pretending to work on your behalf, Potter, now you treat me like I'm an imbecile. I _know_ that you're powerless, Potter, so don't think that I scare easily."

"I'm not trying to scare you," Harry hissed through gritted teeth. It was taking all of his self-control to stand upright. Anything else - magic, scaring a fully grown Death Eater - was beyond him. But he didn't want to die, didn't want to be tortured again, wasn't going to let them get away with torturing Trelawney.

His body ached, but Harry's mind burned with a fury that seemed to make his entire body tingle.

_Surely, if I delay long enough, help will come. _

_Surely someone must know what's going on up here._

* * *

Teachers and friends surrounded Ginny. Professor Dumbledore somehow managed to find a way to the centre of the chaos, where Ginny, her skin almost white, was sitting as though in deep shock, shaking slightly, but otherwise completely still. Sweat poured freely down her face, but when Hermione took Ginny's hand in hers, her skin was ice cold.

Dumbledore knelt beside her, and gently laid one hand on her shoulder. Ginny shuddered at the contact, and a slight moan escaped her lips.

"Miss Weasley? Ginny? Do you hear me?"

Ginny took a deep, gasping breath, and nodded slightly.

"What is wrong with Harry?" Dumbledore asked. Ginny shook still harder, but a look of determination hardened her expression, and she seemed to calm down slightly.

"He's fighting," she forced out, raising one hand to her head. "Death Eaters," she managed to add, before growing still paler. Her eyelids fluttered, and she groaned.

Dumbledore's face was unreadable. He was absolutely motionless for a long second, before rising to his full height and issuing a series of orders.

"Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, I'll ask you to take Miss Weasley and her brother to my office and await us there. Miss Granger, please fetch Madam Pomfrey and join them there. Filius, please spread the word, it is time. Severus, Maureen, with me, please. We must go to the Divination corridor. Everyone, please, be careful."

Hagrid scooped Ginny easily into his arms and set off for Dumbledore's office, Ron and McGonagall trailing behind him. Hermione followed as far as the doors before heading for the hospital wing.

Flitwick, Dumbledore, Snape and Skeeter hurried to the small room behind the staff table. Once there, Flitwick threw some Floo Powder onto the fire, and plunged his head into the flames with a muffled squeak of "The Burrow!"

Dumbledore rapped his knuckles sharply against the frame of a painting. It swung forward, revealing a gloomy passageway. Without a word, Dumbledore, Skeeter and Snape plunged into the passage and started to run.

* * *

Harry swallowed with difficulty. The two men were staring down at him contemptuously, savouring the moment of his capture.

A grin spread slowly across Green's face. Harry could almost see the thought forming behind his eyes. Green raised his wand, and the world seemed to move into slow motion again, just as it had at the Quidditch match weeks before. Harry's wand came up, and he saw Green hesitate for a moment, before his confidence returned, and he grinned evilly. Harry could feel the air around him tingle, could feel _himself_ tingle as a spell was readied.

But it wasn't Green who cast the spell.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

It was Harry.

* * *

In the hidden passageway, the three teachers continued their charge towards the Divination corridor. For a second, Dumbledore faltered, but before the other two could react, he was running faster than ever before, a small smile on his lips.

In Dumbledore's office, Ginny gasped, and then was still. She breathed calmly, and colour began to return to her cheeks. Hermione and Madam Pomfrey burst into the room just as Ron, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall exchanged a quizzical look.

Green wasn't exactly frozen by the spell. Although unable to move, he was thrown backwards by the force of the impact, and slammed hard into the wall, cracking several of the stone blocks.

Harry's wand glowed brightly in his hand like a light-bulb, and a small smile played upon his lips. He advanced on Quayle, who sneered, a little nervously.

"So, the great Harry Potter is not above spreading lies and mistruths? Don't think for a second that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fears you, boy. He is as ready to kill you with your powers as he was without them."

"Not lies," Harry said. "I lost my powers. Now I have them back again. Just in time to capture another Death Eater. One more for Azkaban," he grinned.

"Then I'll use Lucius Malfoy's lawyer," Quayle spat, a little of his confidence returning to his face. "He'll be free soon enough, and I won't be far behind, Potter. You can't keep us away from our master for long."

"I don't have to," Harry said. "But if you do get free, I've got a message for your master. Tell him that I'm coming for him. That I'll be ready for him when we fight. Tell him that I've got nothing to lose anymore. Tell him that there's nothing he can do to hurt me. Tell him that when I face him, it'll just be him and me."

"Oh _please_," Quayle sneered, this time with a great deal more conviction to it. "As though I would waste my breath. When I see my master, all I shall tell him is that I defeated Harry Potter. If you have it in your power, then hex me, Potter. I'm standing here, at your mercy. Do you really have your magic back? Or was that just a trick? Shall we test it? _Stupefy!"_

_"Protego!"_

_"Impedimenta!"_

_"Protego!"_

_"Petrificus Tota-"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

Quayle's wand flew from his hand, and clattered to the floor at the far end of the corridor. Quayle staggered backwards from the spell, his arm hanging limp by his side where Harry's Disarming spell had caught it. His blonde hair hung about his face, and in the moonlight he looked pale and scared.

"It doesn't matter," he spat, trying to shake some life into his arm. "Even if you take me, a dozen will rise to take my place. His power touches everyone, Potter. You don't stand a chance."

Harry stared at the Death Eater. The sleeve of his robes had fallen away as he shook it, revealing the Dark Mark glowing silver on his arm. Quayle followed Harry's gaze and laughed.

"My master knows, Potter. He knows that I have fallen in his service. I won't put my hands up and surrender. I am loyal to him."

"To the end?" Harry asked coldly.

"To the end. To the pain. To the death."

_"Ferula!"_

Bandages sprung from Harry's wand, twining themselves around Quayle, who crashed to the ground. His head pounding, his body aching, he approached Quayle, and crouched beside his prone form. The light from his glowing wand illuminated his face, but from below, casting shadows in the wrong places. Quayle shuddered, but fired off one last shot.

"He'll come for you and your friends, Potter. He's already taken your family. Now he'll take everyone else that you care for. He'll break you!"

"The High Court can decide what will happen to you," Harry said. "I hope they put you up on trial. Another Death Eater caught, another of Voldemort's followers beaten. As for him breaking me, I wouldn't bet your last Galleon on it. I'm alone, Quayle. I took down you and your friend without breaking a sweat. I don't have anyone I care for, so Voldemort can't hurt me. And I'm only going to get better, do you understand? If you somehow do get away, tell your master that."

Harry pointed his wand at Quayle for a fraction of a second, enough to make the bound Death Eater flinch, but then he cast another spell to bind the unconscious Green.

"Harry?"

Harry sunk to his knees, his wand clattering to the cold flagstones, the light dying as it left his fingers. He shuddered violently as the adrenaline in his body seemed to vanish, leaving him with only the aching aftereffect of the Cruciatus curse.

"Harry?"

He slumped against the wall, his eyes fixed on Green and Quayle. He dimly registered Snape and Skeeter crossing his line of vision, checking on the prisoners.

"Harry?"

He looked up, the muscles in his neck and his shoulders and every other part of him protesting.

"You wished to use your magic, I take it?" Dumbledore said. Harry nodded, achingly.

"Well, excellent," Dumbledore said. "Professor McGonagall will be delighted. She wasn't looking forward to failing you, Harry, I must say."

Snape said something under his breath as he checked Green's bindings.

"They are secure," he said at last. He gave Harry a completely unreadable look.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "I imagine by now that Filius will have contacted everyone. Harry, can you walk?"

Harry nodded. He pushed himself slowly, painfully to his feet. Skeeter handed him his wand, and he noticed that she had Green and Quayle's wands tucked into her belt.

"You never know when you might need another weapon," she said, scooping up Godric Gryffindor's sword smoothly.

Harry took one step, and stumbled, crashing into the opposite wall. Snape clicked his tongue in a way that made Harry try and force himself back upright, but firm hands clasped his shoulders.

"Harry, do not overdo it," Dumbledore said. "Did they use the Cruciatus curse on you?"

Harry nodded, wishing himself under Madam Pomfrey's care, where a soft bed and a dark room would be his to recover in.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said. "Once again, I have let those into the school who would harm you."

Harry shook his head dully.

"Harry, rest," Dumbledore said. "Just relax, Harry."

"Trelawney," Harry said. "They tor-"

Harry sank backwards.

* * *

"Ginny? Ron? What are you doing here?"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley emerging from Dumbledore's fireplace. Ron gave a strangled yell, and ran to embrace his parents. Ginny broke free of Madam Pomfrey's care and joined him.

"Where have you been?" Ron barked at Mr. Weasley. "We've been worried sick!"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged amused glances.

"Aren't we _your_ parents? We're supposed to worry about you, I thought," Mr. Weasley said.

"Dad!" Ginny said. "We're being serious. I've been so scared!"

Arthur and Molly looked closer at their children, and their expressions grew more serious as they saw the deep worry lines on Ron's forehead, and the dark bags under Ginny's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Weasley said, shifting uncomfortably. "You know what we're doing. I'm never in any danger. That's all I can say."

"That's not good enough," Ron's expression was stern, and Mr. Weasley shifted again. "Sirius and Professor Lupin write to Harry all the time. You _can't _go a month without writing to us."

Mr. Weasley looked slightly ashamed. "We won't," he said at last. But we can't tell you what we're doing. You understand that, don't you?"

"In fact, Arthur, I feel that the time has come to involve these four young people more in what we are doing." Dumbledore stood in the doorway of his office, his eyes twinkling.

"It seems foolish," he continued, "to deny them information that may save their lives, especially as they seem to so often find themselves in situations that put their lives at risk."

"Four of them, Albus?"

"Four, Arthur."

Dumbledore stepped aside to reveal Harry sitting in mid air, his skin as pale as Ginny's had been.

"Harry!" Molly and Ginny dashed to his side. Molly laid her hand on his forehead. Ginny clasped his arm in her hands.

"Albus, Harry's ill!" Molly yelled. Dumbledore winced, and wiggled his little finger in his ear as though checking whether Mrs. Weasley had damaged his eardrum. Madam Pomfrey pushed impatiently past him to check on Harry.

While Harry was being checked on, Snape, Skeeter and their prisoners came in. Ron felt as though the room was very crowded, far more so than was the addition of another three people would explain. Looking around, he realised why.

While the Weasleys had been otherwise occupied, dozens of wizards and witches had Flooed into the room. In one corner of the room stood Mad-Eye Moody and another man he recognised as Dedalus Diggle, although the former Auror looked much thinner and considerably less bruised then he had done in Diagon Alley, months before.

As Ron watched, Remus Lupin appeared in the fireplace. He stepped out of the fire, cleaning off his robes with a wave of his wand, and came to stand by Ron.

"Another typical day at Hogwarts, I see," Lupin said, glancing at Harry. Harry had awoken, and was feebly protesting being fussed over.

"Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore intoned. "Harry will be fine. You will go with Professors Flitwick and Skeeter to the hospital wing. Professor Trelawney has been attacked, and she requires your care. Severus, Maureen, you will accompany Alastor to our guest quarters and take into custody the Ministry employees quartered there. I assume you'll want to question them, Alastor?"

"Right," Mad-Eye replied shortly, his magical eye fixed firmly on Quayle.

The faculty members nodded, and left. Molly and Ginny stayed by Harry's side, each holding one of his hands. He seemed to have resigned himself to the situation, and had stopped struggling.

"Forgive me, Harry," Dumbledore said, waving his wand. Harry was guided into Dumbledore's squashy, comfortable chair, and slumped gratefully into it. He gently extricated his arms from Molly and Ginny's grip, and clasped his hands in his lap. Ginny didn't react, but the two teenagers shared a look that Ron felt had more to it than he would understand.

Harry looked around the room, and then up at Dumbledore.

"The old crowd?" he asked tiredly. Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Yes, Harry. This is the 'old crowd' to whom I referred on that night two years ago. Everybody, this is Harry Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. Tonight, should they be willing, they shall be joining the Order of the Phoenix."

_To be continued..._

**Gryphonmistress****:** As you can see, Harry's powers are back as of this chapter. As for Harry coming around... Give it time.

**Silver Warrior:** A gloomy outlook, but you're probably right

**Eric2:** Climactic scenes a-plenty to come

**Daily Prophet Reporting: **Dean vs. Harry is coming very soon... Everything changes very, very soon.


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven: Affirmation

**_Chapter Twenty-Seven: Affirmation_**

Ron looked around the assembled throng of wizards.

"The Order of the Phoenix?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Perhaps Miss Granger would care to enlighten us?" he said. Hermione looked startled, but nodded.

"The original Order was made up of those people brave enough to fight Y-" she scowled. "Voldemort. People brave enough to fight Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded, as much in approval of Hermione using Voldemort's name as in agreement with her story.

"From what I understand, the Order fought in secret. It was never acknowledged by the Ministry. Whatever the Order accomplished remains a secret fifteen years after Voldemort's defeat."

"Very good indeed, Miss Granger. May I ask how you found this out?"

"Eloise Midgen," Hermione said. "Her parents were in the Order, and they told her all about it after their house was attacked."

"Good people," Moody nodded. "I was glad to help them. Even gladder to put their attackers away."

"Eloise has really improved this year," Hermione told him. "She showed everyone in my Dueling Club session a blood clotting spell a couple of months ago. She said she learnt it from you."

For a moment, the ghost of a smile played across Moody's lips. Then his weathered face resumed its usual stern expression.

"Voldemort's rise to power became apparent about forty years ago," Dumbledore said. "I persuaded a number of friends to work with me on ways of stopping him. Among those friends were your grandparents, Harry, Godric and Jennifer Potter."

Harry didn't seem to react, but Ron could tell that he was surprised.

"Voldemort, for some reason never explained, has always had a particular hatred for your family, Harry. It is why he killed your parents. It is why he killed your grandparents. It is why you are the last of your family."

Dumbledore bowed his head, as did many present. Dedalus Diggle removed his top hat.

"When the time came to revive the Order I found myself pleasantly surprised by the number of people who have offered their services. Many remembered your parents, or your grandparents, Harry. Many joined because of friends and family lost in our first war with Voldemort. Still others, of course, joined because they felt it right to do so."

All eyes in the room were on Harry. Everyone seemed to know what was coming next.

"It's me, isn't it?" Harry said quietly. "You're going to say that people are joining because of me."

Dumbledore inclined his head.

There was silence.

Finally, Harry spoke up.

"What does the Order do?" he asked. It was Lupin who replied.

"We spy, we watch, we interfere. We delay Voldemort's plans. If he chose to fight us, there'd be an end to all this. But he won't. It's a long, slow war, and it seems that we're always on the defensive, but we do what we can, and we're stronger this time then we were last time. Voldemort doesn't have the numbers on his side that he once did, although he's been recruiting all year long."

"And you want me to join?" Harry asked.

"We would like all four of you to join," Dumbledore said. "As I said, the four of you have a knack for placing yourselves in dangerous situations and belonging to the Order would give you a means of summoning assistance, if nothing else."

"How?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore tapped his desk four times, each tap producing a golden disc.

"These discs, which I would recommend you wear around your necks. Should you need help, simply grasp your disc and say 'Fawkes'."

Harry smiled slightly on hearing this. Ron looked away from him, and up at Dumbledore.

"Only Order members get them?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Yes. We would give them to anyone who wished them, but that would inevitably result in the Death Eaters obtaining a means of ambushing our allies. The best we can manage is what we are doing at the moment. Attempt to foil as many assaults as possible, and at the same time practise constant vigilance."

"You are stopping attacks, then?" Ginny asked. "Only, the _Prophet_ doesn't seem to report anything but successful attacks."

"Miss Weasley, it was a wise man who once said that no news is good news. For every attack made successfully by Voldemort's forces, we foil another, on average."

"Why don't I feel that?" Harry asked. "My scar usually flares up when Voldemort gets angry, right? He must be furious that you're stopping so many attacks."

"I would imagine he is, Harry," Dumbledore agreed. "However, the answer to why you don't feel that anger lies within yourself. Or rather, within your relationship with Miss Weasley."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other in confusion.

"Er, what?" Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. He looked around the room, and said, "My friends, I believe that this conversation will be of a somewhat delicate nature. I would ask you to please go into the next room. We shall have our meeting in a few moments."

Dumbledore waved his wand and a number of the portraits of old Headmasters moved aside. A door appeared in the wall, and when Dedalus Diggle opened it and led the members of the Order through, Ron caught a glimpse of a lecture room on the other side.

When the door shut behind the last Order member, the room was empty but for Dumbledore, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys. Fawkes the phoenix ruffled his feathers quietly on his perch. Dumbledore turned to look at Harry and Ginny.

"Harry, when one wizard saves another wizards life, a bond is forged between them. I believe I have told you this before?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, there are such bonds between yourself and Miss Granger, yourself and young Mister Weasley here, yourself and Sirius... Yours is rather a long list, and in some cases the bond goes in both directions. In some cases the bond is purely that someone else, such as Professor Lupin at the start of your third year, has saved your life without you saving theirs."

Dumbledore looked at Harry and Ginny, his eyes sparkling slightly. Ron heard his mum catch her breath, and when he looked at her, she had one hand over her mouth. She too was looking at Harry and Ginny, as though seeing them for the first time.

"Harry, Ginny, I appreciate that this may be somewhat embarrassing for you to hear, and so I would like to apologise in advance. You have saved one another's lives. Harry, you saved Ginny from Tom Riddle during your second year; Ginny, you saved Harry last year, I believe."

Ginny blushed brightly, but nodded. Harry looked up at her questioningly.

"A Dementor in Hogsmeade before Christmas," she said shortly. "It would have got you, but I got it instead."

"Oh," Harry said. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Ginny said.

"But what does this have to do with You-Know-Who, Albus?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"The bond between Harry and Ginny is very special," Dumbledore said, drawing a chair in mid-air with his wand. A squashy purple armchair appeared, and Dumbledore sank into it with a satisfied sigh. "Anyone else? No? Very well.

"Harry and Ginny have, as I mentioned, saved one another's lives. They have also faced Voldemort, they have fought him, and they have walked away. In this they are unique. Every other person who has faced Voldemort has died. It is that simple. And of course there is another reason that Harry and Ginny have this unique bond."

Dumbledore left the statement hanging. Harry ignored it.

"So you're saying that because of this bond, I don't see what Voldemort does?"

"I believe that this is so," Dumbledore said. "It appears that Ginny sees a little of what you see, feels a little of what you feel, and vice versa. Apparently this bond, strengthened by your constant close proximity to one another while here at Hogwarts, is interfering with your link to Voldemort, who is rather further away. It is the reason, I believe, that both yourself and Miss Weasley has been sleeping poorly on the nights when there have been attacks. While you no longer have dreams where you see Voldemort's wishes and desires, both of you are suffering the disruptive effects of his anger and hatred."

"Isn't there some way we can block it?" Harry asked, getting to his feet and leaning forward on Dumbledore's desk. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Harry was shaking, and barely able to stand, but no one wanted to go to him. His wand was clenched in one hand, and it was glowing brightly enough that the other light sources in the room seemed dim and pale by comparison.

"I'm sorry, block what?" Dumbledore asked.

"This thing with Ginny," Harry said. "I don't want people in my head. Bad enough that Voldemort kept coming in uninvited, at least what I see in my dreams can help us. If Ginny is stopping me seeing those dreams, we should try and stop that. Besides," he said, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible level. "I don't want anyone else in my head."

Harry's tone had been flat and tired, but Ron knew that he might as well have just yelled at Ginny and slapped her. She flushed pink, whether from embarrassment or anger Ron couldn't tell, but he knew that she was upset.

"You make it sound," she said, "as though I _want_ to be connected to you. _Nothing_ could be further from the truth."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Ginny moved away from Harry to stand beside Hermione, who smiled weakly at her. Ginny stood turned away from Harry, her arms folded tightly across her ribs, her cheeks a bright red that betrayed, Ron realised, both anger and unhappiness.

Mrs. Weasley broke the silence.

"Well, Albus, Ginny and Harry don't want this bond. Can anything be done to break it?"

Dumbledore seemed lost in thought, turning his head to look first at Ginny, then Harry, then back once more at Ginny. Only when Mr. Weasley repeated the question did Dumbledore look up.

"Sorry," he said. "When you reach my age, you sometimes find that your memories can be..." He looked from Harry to Ginny once more, and the corners of his moustache twitched slightly. "Breaking the bond? Well, it would be possible for Ginny to learn how to close her mind to it, but breaking the bond itself is almost impossible. Certainly it would not be a bad thing for Ginny to learn, though, if only to prevent her feeling what she did earlier tonight."

"What did y- What did _she_ feel?" Harry asked.

"She felt you being tortured, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "When Aptar Quayle placed you under the Cruciatus curse, Miss Weasley could feel part of the pain you were experiencing."

Harry sank back into Dumbledore's chair and looked guiltily at Ginny.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You shouldn't have to feel this. I'm the one that Voldemort is after."

Ginny didn't say anything, didn't even acknowledge that Harry had said anything.

"Miss Weasley, I shall contact you tomorrow about studying how to control the bond. Molly, Arthur, if you'd join the rest of the Order? Harry, please stay a little while longer. The rest of you, it is late. Miss Weasley, if you feel any further ill effects from tonight, do not hesitate to go to Madam Pomfrey."

Ginny, Hermione and Ron shuffled out of the office, collecting their gold discs on the way. Hermione paused for one last look around the room before pulling the door shut. Molly and Arthur nodded impersonally to Harry before going into the classroom.

Harry and Dumbledore were left alone, except for Fawkes and the unconscious forms of Quayle and Green.

"Another busy night, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"There's a lot that I don't understand," Harry said.

"Always a difficult admission to make. Anything in particular?"

"Everything," Harry said.

"Ah," Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps you could be a bit more specific?"

"I don't understand why I couldn't do magic for five months, why I have this bond with Ginny, why my wand is glowing, how I could beat two dark wizards..." Harry tailed off. "I don't understand why people keep getting dragged along with me when all I want to do is be alone. Ginny, Ron and Hermione shouldn't have to go through this. They're in Voldemort's way again, even though I've tried so hard to make them give up on me."

Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"I find it interesting that at much the same time, yourself and Draco Malfoy have made efforts to distance yourselves from people who have long been your friends," he said. "Mr. Malfoy has changed houses and avoided all contact with his former housemates. You have stayed in Gryffindor and continued to act in much the same way as you always have done. It has been much harder for your former friends to give up on you then it has for Mr. Malfoy's friends to give up on him, simply because he seems much more serious about it. It says a great deal about you and your friends that they are still prepared to stand by you, even when you have tried so hard to push them away."

Harry said nothing, and Dumbledore let the silence continue for several minutes.

"As for your other questions, the reason you were able to defeat Voldemort's followers is the same reason that your wand is glowing. After five months of holding back, you have cast a number of spells, and your body is burning off the excess of stored magic that it has been building up. Part of that is the constant illumination of your wand. I would think that you will return to normal in a few days, when your magical power has returned to normal levels. You may find in the meantime that the spells you cast may be rather more powerful in the meantime, so do be careful. Normally your power depletes quite naturally, even during your school holidays you will burn off some of this energy, simply by walking around, breathing and so on. It is something that every wizard does, quite naturally.

"In your case, the only times in the last five months when you have tapped into your personal store of energy, other than creating the odd spark with your wand, was when you fought the Boggart, and when you flew in your match against Hufflepuff. The latter, I am certain, was an entirely subconscious use of your magic, doubtless tied to your wanting to save your friends. The former..."

Dumbledore's beard twitched slightly, and Harry though that he might have been smiling slightly.

"The former, your encounter with the Boggart, well, why don't you tell me what _you_ think happened?"

Harry nodded, and said "When I saw the Boggart it... It wasn't a Dementor. I wasn't ready for it, and I panicked. I blacked out, but why didn't it kill me?"

"Harry, your blacking out was due to your instinctive release of all of your magical energy. It can be done deliberately, although very rarely. In most cases it is fatal. Alastor will tell you, I am sure, of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, brothers who were ambushed by five Death Eaters and who fought to the last, before expelling their combined energy in one blast that took out themselves and their attackers. A desperation measure, but their sacrifice was quite vital. It allowed us to save an entire family, nearly a dozen people, from those five Death Eaters."

"Why did I survive, then?" Harry asked quietly.

"For a number of reasons, not least because by Halloween last year you were quite exhausted and you were already drawing on those supplies of magic to keep going. Now your store has been replenished, and you are ready to begin practical lessons once more. Professor McGonagall, as I believe I have already mentioned, will be delighted."

"I can fight again," Harry said.

Dumbledore looked up. "Fight?"

"Yeah. I can cast spells, and that means I can fight. I'm going to have to face him, aren't I? When it comes down to it, you've said he's coming for me, that he wants to kill me. Eventually, it's going to be him and me."

"We will try our best to ensure that doesn't happen," Dumbledore said.

"But you can't guarantee that it won't," Harry said quietly. "So I have to be ready. And if that means that I have to be even harder on Ron and the others to get them to give up on me, then that's fine. I'm not going to let him get anyone. Not if I can help it."

Dumbledore sighed, and nodded.

"Harry, you must make the choices you feel are best. I will not interfere. However, please remember that I am always here, should you wish to talk about anything, regardless of how important it may be when it comes to defeating Voldemort."

Harry nodded, and got shakily to his feet. He made for the door out of Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster stopped him.

"Harry," he said, holding up the last golden disc. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Harry looked at the disc, and then his gaze met Dumbledore's.

"No," he said. "I told you. I'm not going to put anyone else at risk because Voldemort's after me. And that includes members of the Order."

With that, he was gone. Dumbledore sat in his squashy armchair for a long time, peering at Fawkes over his steepled fingers, before sighing heavily.

"It appears that drastic measures will be required, Fawkes," he said at last. Fawkes trilled melodiously in reply, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Very well, you are right of course."

He rose, and summoned a quill and parchment, which hovered in midair as he dictated a short note that then fastened itself to Fawkes' leg.

"You know who to go to?" Dumbledore asked.

Fawkes cooed indignantly in reply.

"Forgive me," Dumbledore said. "But this is important. Regardless of what I have just said to Mr. Potter, I am perfectly prepared to interfere. It appears that there is only one person capable of talking sense to him, however, and it must be done at the earliest opportunity."

* * *

Harry's magical return to lessons had been something of a mixed bag. Defence Against the Dark Arts had been his first practical magical lesson, and all that had consisted of had been casting the Gladius spell. Charms the following day, however, had seen Harry overdoing the Sonorus charm he had been practising on a small mouse, leaving everyone in the class unable to do anything but shout incredibly loudly until Professor Flitwick was able to go around, casting the Quietus charm on them one by one. Even Hermione had been unable to counter the spell, so much power had Harry put behind it.

He spent the weekend in the library, accepting responsibility for researching the Temple of Le Fay as all of the Ministry's workers were being interviewed by Moody and Diggle, and banned from leaving their quarters until cleared. Hermione came in several times, and took out a number of books on Le Fay and Arthurian legend. Harry felt odd that she was continuing to help him, even after all he had done to push her and everyone else away.

Outside of the library, he tried frantically to bring his magic under control. He was six months out of practise, and it appeared that Dumbledore had been right. It would take time for him to regain control, and he also had a great deal of excess power stored up. He tried to float a feather in an attempt to regain some measure of fine control, but he made it explode instead. His wand glowed particularly brightly as he twiddled it despairingly between his fingers that evening, staring into the common room fire as he consciously restrained himself from performing any more magic.

Transfiguration the next day was, if nothing else, interesting. Rather than de-aging the tomcat that he, Goyle and Terry Boot had been assigned, Harry managed to devolve it into a sabre-toothed tiger. Fortunately, the tiger had been every bit as surprised as anyone else by the turn of events, and McGonagall had been able to transfigure it into a carriage clock until Hagrid could be summoned to take care of it.

* * *

Fortunately for Harry, Quidditch practise had been better then he had expected, especially given that Ginny wasn't talking to him and Dean was still trying to convince him to apologise to her. Ron, for his part, was torn between his delight at having his Seeker back and his anger at the way Harry had treated his sister.

The team, despite all the internal friction, flew much better then they had done in a long time. Harry, for whom Quidditch practise had long been reduced to running and weight training, revelled in the opportunity to fly on his Firebolt. He caught the Snitch every time Ron released it, including one spectacular capture where he seized it from between Seamus' bat and a Bludger a split second before they connected.

Spurred on by Harry's return to action, the team flew as well as they ever had. Even Ron, who was a very demanding captain, could barely fault their performance, other than Ginny fumbling a Quaffle when Harry swooped directly at her.

* * *

Harry's return to teaching at the Dueling Club was even more satisfying, for Harry at least. Draco Malfoy had run up to him at the start of the session and wrung his hand on hearing that Harry would be teaching again, which had momentarily unsettled Harry for reasons he was unable to pinpoint precisely. Professor Dumbledore consented to creating a Dementor, as he had done when teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts the year before. Harry had waited until the end of the session before signalling for the Dementor, which swooped around the Great Hall for several minutes, spreading fear and discord throughout.

Dumbledore looked curiously at Harry, who was standing with his hands in his pockets, clearly unwilling to do anything to stop the Dementor. Only Eloise Midgen was able to overcome her surprise and conjure a Patronus to hold it at bay, but before Eloise's Patronus could attack the Dementor, Harry conjured a Patronus that exploded from the tip of his own, glowing wand and ripped through the Dementor without slowing. The silver stag seemed far larger than before, and much more sharply defined. It shone brightly in the light of the hundreds of candles that hovered above the heads of the students.

Harry's students looked up at the stag with a mixture of awe and trepidation on their faces. Few of them could produce more than an indistinct Patronus, and they certainly couldn't keep projecting it the way Harry was doing, with the stag posing regally above them as though it were a statue. None of them had been ready for the surprise arrival of the Dementor. Many of them were surprised by the effect that it had had on them, and vowed to work much harder on their Patronus at future lessons.

Harry then rounded off the session by agreeing to a duel with Dean. Barely had they conjured their Gladius, however, when Harry yelled "_Expelliarmus__!_" and Dean's sword was cast from his hand.

"Sometimes your opponent will cheat," Harry said, his face set in a blank expression which made Dean's brow knit together slightly. As well as feeling slightly chagrined by his quick loss to Harry, he was wondering exactly how Harry had managed to conjure his Patronus when it seemed that Harry wasn't thinking happy thoughts right now.

* * *

Over the next few days, the number of people signing up for Harry's study sessions grew significantly. Harry proved to be a hard taskmaster, however, ruthless in his treatment of anyone who failed to keep up.

"I can do it," he snapped at Dennis Creevey one night as the younger boy struggled with the Summoning charm. "It's not difficult."

Dennis looked horrified, and he and his brother returned to their work with great ferocity. The results were less than impressive, however, as Dennis only succeeded in banishing Colin halfway across the room.

"Yeah, not bad," Harry said evenly. "Plenty of power, shame it was the _completely wrong spell!_"

Dennis' embarrassment was heightened as everyone turned to look at him, glad that they weren't on the receiving end of Harry's scorn.

When the session ended, Harry stayed behind to tidy up. After a few minutes, Cho appeared at the door and walked in, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it.

"I can move you from there if you're just trying to keep me here," Harry said without turning.

"I don't want to keep you, Harry," she said. "Just talk to you."

Harry sighed. "What about, Cho?" he asked as he turned to face her.

"Why you've been avoiding me for months?" Cho suggested. "Why you're now trying to alienate everyone in the school, rather than _just_ the people you think care for you? Your friends miss you, did you know that? They say that it's not the same without you around, that there's something missing. Why are you still doing this?"

"You know why," Harry said, his shoulders sagging. "Voldemort is out to get me, Cho. He killed my whole family, he killed them because he hated them. Do you know how many times he's tried to kill me? Five times! No one else has avoided him for so long, and one day my number will be up. But until then, he'll get angrier and angrier, try harder and harder to get me, and he'll kill people I know! The only way I can think of to protect them is to make them hate me, because if they're not my friends, if they hate me, if Voldemort and the Death Eaters don't see them as a way to get to me... then they won't be as much of a target," he said. "And I won't have to worry about fighting people I care about," he added, in a much quieter tone.

Cho looked at Harry for several long moments before replying.

"The Sorting Hat didn't want you to go into Ravenclaw, did it, Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked. "No, it didn't, why?"

"Because you've clearly got much more bravery than brains."

"Look-" Harry began, suddenly angry.

"No, _you_ look," Cho said, suddenly furious. Harry backed away a couple of steps. "How dare you be so pig-headed, so stubborn, so bloody _arrogant_, that you can dare think that everything in the world comes down to you. I lost _Cedric_ to Voldemort, but not because he was your friend, Harry. Not because Voldemort thought for a second that it would hurt you to see him die. Voldemort killed him because he didn't want him alive anymore. That's why he kills people, Harry. He's not playing some great game of chess where you and him are the kings and everyone else are pawns. He's just a nasty, vicious, horrible _bastard_ who kills anyone in his way. Think about the people who've died this year, Harry. Did you know _any_ of them? One of them lived in the same town as you, for God's sake."

Cho was breathing heavily, her cheeks pink, her body shaking.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Cho held up her hand.

"Don't say it."

Harry frowned, but pushed on. "You're wrong-"

But Cho had already thrown her hands up in the air. Seething with frustration, she stormed out of the classroom, leaving Harry all alone.

"She's wrong," he said eventually, when it was clear that she wasn't coming back. "She has to be wrong. She just has to be."

* * *

__

The following evening, Harry was on his way to dinner when he saw Moody and Diggle heading towards the entrance doors.

"Professor Moody!" he called out, pushing past a group of third-year Hufflepuffs.

Moody and Diggle turned around, Moody with a half frown on his scarred face.

"How many times am I going to have to say this today? You of all people should know, Potter. I wasn't your teacher!"

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said. "Have you finished questioning the Ministry wizards?"

Diggle and Moody exchanged glances, then each grabbed one of Harry's arms and carried him to a nearby secluded corridor.

"Potter," Moody growled, "Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, very highly indeed. But you've got a great deal to learn, lad."

"I believe that what Alastor is trying to say is that we don't discuss criminal cases where we can be overheard. You might take a tip from that Ron Weasley lad. Good head for secrecy on him. He'll make a fine Auror one day, if I can convince him away from a life of professional Quidditch," Diggle added with a smile.

"Right," Harry said, ignoring what Diggle had said. "But have you finished then?"

Moody and Diggle exchanged another glance, and Harry tensed himself, but Diggle shook his head.

"No, not yet. We have the esteemed Mr. Lockhart left to speak to."

Moody snorted. Harry looked at him questioningly.

"You don't think he's involved, do you?" Harry asked.

"If that poor excuse for a criminal is part of You-Know-Who's forces, then this war will be easier than I thought. No, Potter, Gilderoy Lockhart isn't part of this, but he still got away with conning people. He should be behind bars."

Dedalus smiled tolerantly. "His books were very entertaining, Alastor, if somewhat misleading. There are more important things for us to concern ourselves with these days."

Moody grunted in a non-committal way.

"What have you found out?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, Dumbledore said that you'd be asking questions, Potter," Moody growled. "I suppose we can tell you something. Most of the Ministry employees have links to what Dedalus here calls subversive elements and what I call gangs of trainee Death Eaters. They've been carrying out a lot of the attacks over the last year. If they succeeded, they got experience. If they failed, You-Know-Who didn't lose anyone important. We reckon quite a few of this lot who were supposed to be here working for the Ministry were actually feeding info to Voldemort. Quayle picked everyone on the team, apart from that idiot Lockhart. The ones who ain't dark are stupid, probably the ones Lockhart got stuck working with."

"So we're no nearer to finding out the truth about the Temple of Le Fay?" Harry asked.

Diggle and Moody shook their heads gravely.

"Then do we know anything about where Voldemort is hiding?" Harry asked. "You came from somewhere the day we saw you in Diagon Alley," he said, pointing at Diggle. "Where?"

Moody scowled at Harry.

"Just because you're part of the Order, doesn't mean we can tell you everything, Potter," he growled. "Information remains compartmentalised until such time as we decided to make it more widely known."

"But what if you know something and don't realise?" Harry asked. "I've seen where he's hiding, I might recognise something, might make a connection that someone else might not."

"And if we tell you, and you get captured, what then?" Diggle asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

"I won't," Harry said coldly.

"Potter, you can't do everything," Moody growled quietly. "You've got school to finish, you've got a life to live-"

"I've got a mass murdering wizard on my trail who enjoys torturing people and kills for fun," Harry finished. "Anyway, who says I can't do everything? I'm doing well so far. My marks are up a lot this year because I've been trying a lot harder. I'm going to be ready when I face him, but I need to know where he is before that happens."

Moody's scowl deepened, while Diggle looked reflective.

"If you're that certain you can do something to help, then try doing more research on Morgan Le Fay," Moody said. "Lockhart'll need all the help he can get. I don't imagine Fudge'll be sending anyone else to help him out. Besides, it's your hide he's working to save, Potter. You might put in some effort from time to time."

The two men walked off, leaving Harry scowling at their backs.

* * *

"Dean, do you have a moment?"

Dean looked up from his toad-in-the-hole to see Cho standing before him, biting her lip.

"Sure," he said, setting his fork down.

"Somewhere private?" she added.

Dean was uncomfortably aware of Seamus, sitting opposite him and grinning and winking like a lunatic.

"Yeah, 'course," he said, getting up.

They found a secluded corridor off to one side of the entrance hall. Cho looked nervous about something, but Dean wasn't sure what.

"Did you speak to Harry?" she said.

"I tried," he said. "Several times. He's a stubborn bloke."

"Yeah, he is. He's so stubborn he won't admit it when everything tells him he's wrong."

"Yeah, but he's dead set on his 'way', isn't he? He's convinced that he's right, everyone else is wrong-"

"He's an idiot!" Cho said forcefully. "You want to know why he's doing this? Last Halloween he fought a Boggart that showed him his worst fear. It's not Dementors, it's being _abandoned_, having everyone give up on him and join Voldemort. _That's_ Harry Potter's great reason for being a ruddy idiot for the last six months; He doesn't want to be hurt if people give up on him!"

"That's it?" Dean asked incredulously.

"That's it, oh, but you can't say anything," Cho said, her eyes widening, as she clapped her hands to her mouth. "He'd go _mad_ if he knew that I told anyone."

Dean scratched the back of his head meditatively. "Well, it gives me something to work with, but I won't say anything outright," he said.

"Thank you," Cho said.

"No, thank _you_," Dean said. "This'll help Ginny a lot, I hope."

"You really like her, don't you?" Cho said.

"Nowhere near as much as she likes Harry," he replied with a rueful grin. "They're both my friends, they're both miserable without each other... Ron and Hermione have tried everything they can think of to sort this out. I guess I have to do something. They're right for each other, you know? They shouldn't be apart because of some stupid reason like this."

Dean stopped. Cho was looking at him with a faraway expression.

"What?" he said, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks in slight embarrassment.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I have to go. I'll speak to you soon."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said to her back as she walked quickly away.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? Sorry I haven't written for a while, but it's fun dictating to old Mooney. He's a quick scribbler, and much neater than your old godfather._

_I'm feeling a lot better; Almost ready to be up and about. Soon I'll be dropping past Hogsmeade. Sorry it's been so long since we caught up, but poison spells are a pain in the all-over, and I haven't really been up to Apparating much of late. Still, soon._

_And probably about time. Unless Remus isn't telling me something, you and Ginny have been together more than a year now. I think it's time we had a little talk. If you've been reading the Manual, then you'll have a good idea of what you'll want. _

_And what Ginny'll want._

_Still, there's stuff we didn't put in there. Stuff we learnt later on. Stuff you could do with learning..._

Harry screwed up the letter, and chucked it into his trunk. He didn't know what Remus was playing at.

_Why didn't he tell Sirius? It's been six months! Does he think that Sirius can convince me to change my mind?_

Harry sat on his bed, scowling at nothing. Gryffindor were playing Ravenclaw the next day, and he needed to focus. He needed peace and quiet and calm.

He didn't need to feel guilty about not writing to Sirius.

* * *

Lucius stared across the table at his lawyer.

"You passed the envelopes to their intended recipients."

"In person. And I took the liberty of leaving before they were opened. I imagine that the contents were deeply personal and of a highly private nature," he said smoothly.

"You imagine correctly. And wisely," Malfoy said.

The lawyer smiled a perfect white smile as he smoothed his impeccable hair. "Well, the trial will begin on schedule. I am confident it shall take no more than two days. You shall be a free man before very long, Mr. Malfoy."

"I am as confident of that as I have ever been," Malfoy said.

"Unless there is anything else?" the lawyer asked, standing up and closing his briefcase with a snap.

"Nothing," Lucius said evenly.

"Very well, sir," the lawyer said. "Then I shall see you on Tuesday the twentieth in the courtroom."

"I look forward to the end of the trial," Lucius said.

"All my clients do, sir," the lawyer preened. He hadn't lost a case in eight years.

"Yes, I suppose you _might_ have a say in the verdict," Lucius said confidently.

_To be continued..._

**Frantic:** This soon enough for you?

**Silver Warrior:** Harry will talk with Sirius before the story ends. How much effect will it have on Harry's state of mind? That's something you'll have to wait and see :-)

**Eric2:** A day later and here's a new chapter. Soon enough? ;-) Look for a new chapter tomorrow or Friday


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight: Gryffindor vs Rave...

**__**

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw

The one aspect of Harry Potter's life that hadn't changed in the preceding six months was his love of Quidditch. He sat in the dressing room beneath the stands of the Hogwarts stadium, his mind already on the pitch even as Ron gave his team talk. Harry listened with half an ear, for he knew his job well enough. Catch the Snitch to win the match. It wasn't that hard. Last minute, inspirational words were for the Chasers and Beaters, and even the Keeper. Harry was sure that his old captain, Oliver Wood, had used the opportunity to inspire himself when he was feeling nervous before a match.

He could hear the Ravenclaw team warming up outside the dressing room. Cho would be pacing nervously, he was sure. It was her last match before she left. She'd want to win, to take the Quidditch Cup outright. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had tied for the Cup the year before, just before he and Ginny had -

Harry shook his head, trying to dispel the memories of that night. Bad enough that everyone else seemed intent on reminding him that he used to have a life other than as The Boy Who Didn't Have A Life To Live, he couldn't let himself succumb to temptation to give in and go back to that life.

Suddenly, everyone was standing up, and Harry got to his feet too. Was Ron finished? It seemed not. The team was stood in a circle, joining hands in the centre, and Ron shot Harry a particularly fierce look. Reluctantly, Harry stepped forward and laid his hand on the top of the others. He felt foolish, reminded forcibly of a scene in one of the interminable American sports movies that Dudley watched late at night on the widescreen TV in his room in the hope that one of the actresses would take her top off.

With a jolt, he realised that it would only be a few more weeks before he returned to Privet Drive for the first time in nearly two years.

With another jolt, he realised that the hand which his hand was on top of was Ginny's, and she didn't look happy about it. She was scowling at Dean, who was looking anywhere but at her. Harry scowled at him too, but neither he nor Ginny made any attempt to pull their hand away.

The second jolt of realisation had made the worry of returning to Privet Drive disappear entirely from Harry's mind. He felt a great warmth flow through him, and his attempt to ignore the feeling by focusing on Dean wasn't working. He looked instead at Ginny, who was looking back at him. They held each other's gaze for a long moment until Ron bellowed loudly at his team to go out and win. There was a great roar and the jumble of hands was broken, Harry and Ginny stumbling backwards from one another and looking frantically for the rest of their equipment.

Harry felt his hand tingle as he picked up his Firebolt and almost dropped it in surprise. It had never felt that way before, indeed the only person who talked about their broomstick in such a way was...

He looked over his shoulder.

_...Ginny._

She was looking at her broomstick strangely, weighing it carefully in her hands and muttering to herself. Harry wondered if the balance might be off, but then she nodded sharply and grabbed her gloves from the bench, joining the line of the other players to form up in the players' tunnel. Harry picked up his own gloves and pulled them on deliberately, the rough dragon-hide scratching at the palms of his hands and dispelling the last lingering sensations that had been caused by the feel of Ginny's hand in his.

He lined up behind her in the tunnel, and tapped her on the shoulder.

"This is probably a bad time to ask, but have you done anything about this bond we're supposed to have?" he asked. He fought to keep his voice neutral even as another voice in his head began passing comments on how good it would be to find out if touching her again would get the same reaction. A stray thought crossed his mind about releasing her hair from the tight bun she had styled it into, and then running his fingers through its full, glossy, silky length. He shook his head, eager to dispel the thoughts from his head, and then looked back up at her.

She nodded curtly at him. "Yeah, it's not a problem. Dumbledore's teaching me to close my mind off against _invasions_," she said with a twisted smile. "It's hard, but you won't have me running around your mind for much longer. Soon there'll be no link for you to worry about. I've got plenty of incentive to want the link broken, every bit as much as you do, really."

Harry felt his stomach twist as Ginny turned away.

_This is why you've stopped being around them,_ he tried to convince himself._ This is why you have to stop caring. Ten seconds talking to her and you're acting like she's put a nausea jinx on you. Imagine what'll happen if Voldemort turns her. Would you be able to fight her?_

Feeling very troubled, Harry followed Ginny and the rest of the team onto the pitch.

* * *

"And welcome, welcome, welcome to the final match of the 1996/1997 season here at Hogwarts. After Slytherin's, uh, technically sound victory over Hufflepuff last month, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have it all to play for. If Ravenclaw win, they'll be the champions. If Gryffindor win by one hundred and fifty points or more, they're the champions. That's the stakes, folks, and in case you don't remember, last year the teams drew this fixture when Seekers Cho Chang and Harry Potter caught the Snitch at the same time. Can history repeat itself today, or will one of these teams finally prove to be the best?"

Lee's magically magnified voice rung in Harry's ears as he took in the scene before him. A full Hogwarts stadium rose up around him on all sides as the sun shone pleasantly down upon them. To Harry's faint surprise, the supporters of the four houses were mixed indiscriminately, although Harry's sharp eyesight picked out a cluster of older Slytherins who were apparently intent on spoiling the party. They booed and jeered lustily, led by Pansy Parkinson and Crabbe and Goyle. Harry waved to them as he mounted his Firebolt, and laughed as he realised that a number of them had unearthed their _Potter Stinks_ badges from his fourth year.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked, swooping down from the sky to see why Harry wasn't in the air yet. Harry pointed at the group of Slytherins. Ron looked closer, and scowled.

"Ruddy idiots," he said. "After all that Dumbledore's done..."

"Yeah, well, don't let them get to you," Harry said.

"Them? As if!" Ron scowled at Harry. "You know what you've got to do, right?"

Harry nodded, and watched Ron zoom off.

_It's strange. Ron's mellowed towards me of late, and he really wants to win this match, which helps. He's not going to risk getting on my bad side today, just in case I lose the game on purpose. That'd probably send him over to Voldemort on its own._

Harry grimaced at his own, very dark, joke.

* * *

Ron and Cho shook hands as Justin Finch-Fletchley and Terrence Higgs carried the ball crate out to the centre circle. Professor Skeeter was beaming as she hovered over the captains, her whistle bound around her wrist. Harry noticed that her wand was still hanging in its sheath at her side, and smiled slightly as he hung high above the pitch. He wondered briefly what would have happened if Skeeter hadn't been their Dark Arts teacher that year.

_What would another teacher have taught us? Would we have learnt about weapons? I'd have been in a lot of trouble if I hadn't been able to practise swordfighting this year with Godric Gryffindor's sword._

Harry had come to look on Skeeter as almost the perfect example of what he was trying to achieve. She'd seen terrible things, the same as he had, and had devoted herself to fighting back, being ready, when the time came, to fight. Harry had no doubt that his teacher would be more than able to defeat any Death Eater Voldemort sent against her. In devoting himself to his studies, breaking off contact with his friends, and becoming obsessive with being ready to face Voldemort, he felt that he was following the same path that Professor Skeeter had trodden years before.

But for now, it was her skills as a Quidditch referee that mattered. The previous year's fixture had been an exciting, free flowing affair, played in the true spirit of the game and enjoyed by all. Harry hoped that it would be the same this year. Professor Skeeter was known to be very strict in her lessons - she didn't feel that edged weapons and messing around were a good mix - and if she was similarly strict about Quidditch, the game might be a stuttering affair with every minor foul blown for.

Harry needn't have worried. From the whistle, Vickie seized the Quaffle and embarked on a spirited shoulder-to-shoulder flight down the field with Ravenclaw Chaser Terry Boot. Harry, soaring high above the pitch, watched in enjoyment as the two players fought for possession of the Quaffle. Eventually, Ravenclaw Orla Quirke dispatched a Bludger at the pairing that knocked the Quaffle free.

"Su Li claims the Quaffle now, and she's free and away. Clever work from the Ravenclaw team there, although I suppose we shouldn't expect anything else, should we?" Even Harry, high up in the sky could hear Lee's voice.

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he dipped the nose of his Firebolt, plummeting forwards and feeling his robes rippling in the slipstream behind him. Li was absolutely clear of the Gryffindor team, who had been caught wrong footed by Orla Quirke's risky tactic. Ron was watching the approaching Chaser with a look of absolute focus on his face, but Harry knew that he could save Ron the effort of stopping Li's shot.

He streamlined his body, lying almost flat on his broom as he shot forwards like a bullet from a gun. He hit the Firebolt's top speed just as Li drew her arm backward to shoot. Harry flashed in front of her, making her fumble, and then pivoted sharply around, swatting the falling Quaffle with the tail of his broom and sending it soaring away from the Gryffindor goal and into the grateful hands of Katie Bell.

"Unorthodox tactics from Harry Potter there as Katie Bell passes to Ginny Weasley. It's a little known rule of Quidditch - Weasley to Boyd, intercepted by Ackerley, Ravenclaw have the Quaffle - that the Seeker is allowed to touch any of the four balls in play with their broom. Only the very best Seekers can use that rule in an offensive way, though, but don't forget, folks, that Harry Potter is one of the finest Seekers at Hogwarts for decades."

Lee's words drew a chorus of cheers and jeers from the crowd. Harry grinned self-consciously, and then noticed Cho staring pointedly at him from the other side of the pitch. She pointed silently at him, then jerked a thumb at herself.

Harry nodded once.

The challenge was accepted.

"Potter and Chang are waging a private war out there," Lee announced several minutes later. "The two Seekers have really raised their game out there, they're almost playing as fourth Chasers!"

Harry was breathing heavily as he rose up above the field of play. He and Cho had performed moves that Harry had only read about before the match had started. He had to admit, however, that Cho had been the better player. At one point, she had leapt off of her broom, caught the end of it, and swung it like a baseball bat, sending the Quaffle towards the Gryffindor end at top speed. Su Li had appeared at the last split second to punch the Quaffle through the hoop, leaving Ron stranded and putting Ravenclaw still further ahead, sixty points to twenty.

The crowd had risen in near unanimous appreciation at the incredible move, and now almost everyone was cheering Cho on. Harry couldn't blame them; Like Viktor Krum in the World Cup final three years before, Cho was the most exciting player on the pitch.

Professor Skeeter's whistle blew sharply, and Harry looked around to see her signaling a timeout. He dropped lower and joined the rest of the Gryffindor team underneath their goal hoops.

"Harry!" Ron barked, as soon as he touched down. "What the bloody hell is going on out there? You were just supposed to be looking for the Snitch, not pratting about and losing us points!"

Briefly, Harry's temper flared, but he knew that Ron was right. "Cho's better then I thought. I underestimated her," he admitted quietly.

Ron's expression softened slightly, so that he merely looked furious, as opposed to apoplectic.

"You're the one got us into this mess, Harry," he said. "You'd better have a plan to get us out."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and then shook his head, blushing as he looked at the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at his teammates at that moment.

Ron's scowl deepened, and he was about to say something in reply when Ginny said "Block her."

The rest of the team looked at her, and her eyes locked with Harry's. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he held the gaze unblinkingly, and this time he didn't berate himself for it.

"The first time you played Cho, she tried to block you all the time, right?" Ginny said. Harry nodded, and she continued, "She was on a pretty useless broom, but she's always been a good flyer, and she's just had another six months of practise where you could barely sit on a broom, let alone fly one. Harry," she said with a slight grin, "Cho's _better_ than you are. You'll have to block her, try and make her lose her focus."

Ginny's words stung, and Harry flushed, but he knew that she was right. He nodded once, and Ron smiled tightly.

"Right," he said. "Teamwork, folks. We're forty points down, and we need to be level or better before by the time the Snitch appears. Harry, that's up to you. Don't catch the Snitch-"

"-if Ravenclaw are ahead. Got it, Oliver," Harry said. Ron nodded, and with a slight smile turned to the others. "Ginny, Vickie, Katie, fly like you did in practise and we'll be fine. Josh, Seamus, hit everything that moves, right?"

"Right," Seamus nodded.

The Gryffindor team took flight once more. Professor Skeeter blew sharply on her whistle, and the game resumed. Harry quickly sought out Cho, and took up station right beside her.

"People will start to talk about us again," she commented five minutes later. Gryffindor had scored three times since the restart, and Harry had stayed so close to her throughout that their knees had banged together several times.

Ron saved a long range shot at full stretch and used his momentum to pivot on his broom, letting the Quaffle go and sending it directly to Ginny. Stewart Ackerley, who had been marking Ginny, was completely thrown by the speed of Ron's pass and Ginny was clear and on the attack before he had a chance to react.

Cho, seeing that Harry was momentarily distracted by the clever play, dived sharply towards the pitch. Harry blinked, and dived after her.

* * *

Ginny shot through the air as fast as her Arrowhead would carry her. The Quaffle was tucked tightly in the crook of her arm, and she had the Ravenclaw hoops in sight. She wore a frown of concentration as she avoided a Bludger and ducked beneath the challenge from Su Li. Leaving the younger girl behind, she weaved and dived, trying to draw Ravenclaw Keeper Lisa Turpin away from her goalhoops. She knew that time was short, a fleeting glance behind her showing the three Ravenclaw Chasers forming up for a run on her, but-

_There!_

Turpin had drifted just slightly too far to her left, leaving one of her goalhoops open. Ginny took careful aim, drew back her arm and-

Cho rocketed past her, with Harry in close pursuit. Ginny caught a bellowed "Sorry!" from Harry, but dropped the Quaffle. Stewart Ackerley swooped down and snatched it, before sending a reverse pass over his shoulder to Terry Boot, and suddenly the Quaffle was half the length of the pitch away.

Ginny swore loudly, yanked her broom sharply around, and tore after the Ravenclaw Chasers.

* * *

Harry scowled as he pulled alongside Cho.

"What's up, Harry?" she asked. "Annoyed that I'm better than you?"

"No," he said, scanning the skies for the Snitch. "I _am_ annoyed that you stopped Ginny scoring, though. You won't do that again," he added as Vickie drove a shot past Lisa Turpin to level the scores.

"You're going to stop me, then?" she asked, a contemptuous note to her voice that annoyed Harry deeply. He flashed a scowl at her, and then grinned.

"That's right, yeah," he said carelessly. "And you're not going to wind me up, either."

"Then I'll just have to outfly you," she said airily as Terry Boot put Ravenclaw ahead once more.

This time Harry was ready for Cho's dive and matched her manoeuvre inch for inch. She swore loudly as he pulled out of the dive a split second before she did.

"Bloody hell, Harry," she yelled as he weaved directly in front of her. He threw a roguish grin over his shoulder at her, and brought his Firebolt to a sudden stop.

Cho crashed hard into the back of him, cartwheeling off her broom and dropping to the ground a few feet below. She looked up at him with fury in her eyes, and then laughed.

"Potter, I'm going to kick your arse from here to Bulgaria and back," she said.

"Yeah, yeah, and while we're out there, go talk to Viktor Krum. Maybe he can give you some flying tips," Harry grinned.

* * *

"Our two Seekers are marking one another out of the match," Lee announced several minutes later. "After spending the first part of the match flying entirely without rules, discipline or restraint, Potter and Chang are now showing incredible control. The pitch is open, and it's up to the Chasers, Beaters and Keepers to decide this match now. Chang and Potter are so busy blocking each other that they probably wouldn't see the Snitch if it flew up their robes."

Harry and Cho shared a laugh at this as they tussled for the lead at seventy miles an hour straight downwards. They pulled out of the dive at the same instant that Ginny, at the end of another mazy sprint through the entire Ravenclaw team, had her shot saved miraculously by Turpin in the Ravenclaw goal. Harry winced as Ginny pounded the handle of her broomstick.

"Quite a temper she has," Cho said conversationally as she thrust her scaly-gloved hand into Harry's face.

"Ough. Cheat! Yeah, she hasn't scored yet, but she's been playing really well."

"Been watching her, Have you Harry?"

Harry blushed. "It doesn't take much concentration to keep up with you," he said.

"You'll pay for that," Cho said, grabbing the back of his robes and shooting straight upwards. Harry had to hold tight to his Firebolt to avoid being dragged off. In retaliation, he grabbed Cho's robes and pulled them over her head.

* * *

Professor Skeeter had long since given up on the two Seekers, who were clearly enjoying themselves, and was instead focusing on the Beaters, who were becoming wilder and wilder with their attacks. Josh in particular had taken Ron's words to heart, and had already driven a Bludger straight at Stewart Ackerley, despite the Ravenclaw Chaser already having passed the Quaffle on. Michael Corner had replaced the injured third year, and had already scored twice. Ravenclaw now led by thirty points.

Ginny was furious with herself. Ravenclaw had broken the hundred-point mark, and the Seekers had all shared in the spoils. Gryffindor, meanwhile, were trailing because she, Ginny, had yet to score. She glared at Corner, her ex-boyfriend, and vowed to start pulling her weight on the pitch.

_If I could just focus! Why can't I stay focused on the Quaffle?_

She sighed.

_Okay, so what if Harry's flirting with Cho? I don't care!_

She groaned.

_Oh, hell. Just keep your eye on the Quaffle, Weasley. I'll hex them when we win._

* * *

Lee crowed loudly as Ginny set Vickie and Katie up for two easy goals in the next five minutes. Ron had found his form after letting in a number of easy shots - Harry was worried about his consistency, but would never admit it - and Ravenclaw now only led by ten.

Harry and Cho continued to fight it out above the match, scuffling and flailing at one another like bored siblings. Harry glanced down occasionally to see what was going on in the match, but Cho seemed content to let her teammates play on without her.

_Well, she has an advantage, we have to be level or better before I can catch the Snitch. That's why I have to keep checking the match,_ Harry lied to himself. Lee's commentary was perfectly audible at three hundred feet, and he knew full well that Ravenclaw were leading by one hundred points to ninety.

And then, flitting out from deep beneath the stands, barely glimpsed over Cho's shoulder as she pushed in against him, there was the Snitch.

* * *

A great roar arose as Ginny caught Vickie's neat pass, sideslipping around Michael with ease. He flailed at her, one hand catching the tail of her robes, but she was already moving at speed, and all he managed to do was unbalance himself so that he ended up hanging upside down from his broomstick.

Ginny risked a glance upwards, and saw that Harry and Cho were moving forwards with a purpose now, still tussling with one another but-

Then Ginny caught sight of the Snitch, and for a second, her mind went blank. She shook her head, and leant forward, kicking her broom up to a higher speed. She didn't need to look, she _knew_ that Su Li and Terry Boot were after her. Worse, Su Li was on a Nimbus 2001, and that broom was faster than Ginny's Arrowhead. She couldn't outpace Li, instead she had to outfly her.

_And she's no slouch!_ Ginny thought desperately as she caught sight of Li creeping up on her from the corner of her eye. Ginny slued hard to her right, dipping her broomstick low and gaining a few metres as Li reacted slowly.

_Lucky,_ Ginny thought to herself as she aimed her broom at the Ravenclaw goalhoops. Li was already closing in on her again, and Ginny could hear Katie screaming for the pass.

_I can't! If I pass, Harry has to keep holding Cho back from the Snitch even longer. _

She risked a glance upwards as Harry and Cho passed overhead, and for the briefest of instants her eyes met Harry's.

Time seemed to slow. She could hear the roar of the crowd recede to a dull, throbbing, rumble. Nearer to her, there was a shrill whistle as a Bludger shot through the air beside her. She could feel the slipstreams from the brooms of the two Seekers tugging at the hair that had worked its way loose from the bun she had styled it in. She could hear the other players yelling and screaming as her arm came back, and could see Lisa Turpin closing her down, narrowing her shooting angles.

And then Ginny took her shot, sending the Quaffle looping up and over Lisa's head. She saw it dropping gradually, saw it falling towards the middle hoop. She saw Lisa still coming forwards on a collision course, and dived sharply to avoid her.

She didn't see the Quaffle bounce on the rim of the hoop and go through, leveling the scores.

Nor did she see the Bludger that Ravenclaw Beater Orla Quirke had driven at her while she still had the Quaffle.

* * *

Harry actually had a slight lead on Cho as they banked sharply to follow the Snitch around the curve of the stadium. He was on the faster broom, and the Snitch was a long way away, and as soon as they'd seen the Snitch, he and Cho had stopped playing around and shifted immediately into Seeker mode. And they were the two finest Seekers seen at Hogwarts since Charlie Weasley, who could have played for England, had departed a decade before.

But the chase for the Snitch wasn't one of skill, to Harry's disappointment. The Snitch was flying absolutely level and, fast though it was, it wasn't as fast as Harry and Cho were.

And Cho wasn't as fast as Harry was.

Harry was a broom's length in front when he flew towards Ginny, who was taking careful aim at the Ravenclaw goalhoops. He hoped that she scored, knowing that her blazing passion for Quidditch would not be sated by a match where she didn't get on the scoresheet.

_And I can't catch the Snitch unless we're level on points,_ he reminded himself. This chase wasn't just about speed.

He and Cho flashed past Ginny at top speed, and he looked down, knowing as he did so that he was risking Cho blazing past him.

_But I have to see if we've equalised yet,_ he lied to himself again.

For the briefest of instants, his gaze met Ginny's, and time seemed to slow once more, as it had when he had fought the two Dark wizards, weeks before.

He looked up to refocus on the Snitch, and saw Orla Quirke drive a Bludger forward. He half-flinched, expecting the heavy iron ball to come crashing towards him, but it didn't have enough height on it. It had to be aimed at-

_Oh, damn._

-Ginny.

Harry chanced a look behind him. Ginny had taken her shot, and the Quaffle was floating gently, gracefully goalward. Harry could tell that it would go in, that Gryffindor would be level on points.

_And I can catch the Snitch. And we'll win the match and the cup. And Ginny can handle a Bludger by herself._

Harry could feel the adrenaline roaring through him. His head came around to face forwards again, and he realised that he had allowed Cho to draw level. His mind was made up for him, and he spurred the Firebolt on.

The world returned to normal speed in the blink of an eye, and once more Harry and Cho were tussling for position. Harry was moving, barely, infinitesimally into the lead.

And the Snitch was within reach. Harry stretched out his hand, his fingers a few inches further forward than Cho's. He could feel the wind from its silvery wings brushing his fingertips...

And then the Snitch dropped, and Harry's hand closed on nothing. His head whipped around to follow the Snitch, which had reversed course and was now speeding back across the pitch.

Wordlessly, Harry and Cho pulled their brooms around, and set off in pursuit once more. Harry glanced quickly up and caught sight of the Bludger, which had followed Ginny in diving under Lisa Turpin, and was now only a few feet from Ginny's back.

With a jolt, Harry realised that Ginny had no idea the Bludger was behind her.

Harry was flying on autopilot, pacing Cho, but not trying to use the Firebolt's greater speed. He was focused only on the Bludger, wishing it would go off course, willing Ginny to realise it was there and change her dive into a climb, or a swerve, or anything that would fool the Bludger or make it lose interest.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. The Bludger barely seemed to brush Ginny's shoulder, but she was flying alone, thrown from her broom. Her head snapped backwards and her body hung limply in the air for a long second. Her broom carried on a few feet before stopping. The Bludger carried on, its course almost unaltered, as though the collision hadn't really mattered very much.

Later, Harry would be asked if his next act was born from conscious or unconscious thought, and he would be unable to answer. He wasn't even aware that he _had_ acted. One second he had been flying after the Snitch, the next thing he was flying after Ginny.

She was dropping lifelessly towards the ground, tumbling in the air as she fell. Harry tried to gauge her speed, knowing that a sudden stop at the speed she was travelling at could hurt her worse than a dozen Bludgers. But for that reason, he couldn't let her fall too much further.

He was close enough to see her properly now. Her face, always pale, now had a deathly pallor about it that made Harry's blood run cold in his veins. Her hair whipped about her face as she plummeted groundwards.

Harry fell towards her, squeezing every drop of magic he could from the Firebolt, frantically trying to get to her before she hit the ground.

_Why was I so far away? I have to protect these people, I can't let her be hurt, I won't..._

_I have to time this just right._

He was bare inches away from her. He resisted the temptation to snatch at her, instead slipping his arms under her falling form, and gradually easing off on the speed of the Firebolt until he was matching her speed exactly. She nestled easily in his arms, her head resting safely against his shoulder.

With both hands full, Harry leant back as far as he could, trying by weight alone to pull the Firebolt out of the steep dive before it hit the ground.

He could feel it pulling up, could feel the wind tearing at him. Ginny's hair whipped at his face as he felt the broom shuddering under the stress of carrying its two riders through such a hard manoeuvre. Silently, Harry prayed for the broom to hold together. Even with its patented diamond hard finish, he thought that he could hear it creaking beneath him.

Harry held tightly to Ginny leaning so far back on the broom that he could feel the magic crackling in his hair as it brushed against the tail. He was lying almost flat on the broom now, moving at a tremendous speed. He wanted to brake, to will the broom to stop, but he dared not. He wasn't holding the broom, only the cushioning charm was stopping him slipping off, and that wouldn't hold him and Ginny if there were a sudden deceleration. They would be catapulted off, and that would be as bad, or worse, for Ginny then the hard landing Harry had saved her from.

He risked a glance at her face. She was still pale, and Harry thought that he could feel dampness under his the fingers of his left hand, which was clasped at her shoulder. He held her tightly, praying that he wasn't doing any more damage to her injuries, but if he lost his grip, she would fall.

Harry could feel the heels of his boots scraping the earth of the pitch. He braked the broom as gently as he could, conscious that the stadium had walls, that if he braked too slowly, then he would slam into them. He also knew that if he braked too quickly, then he would be back to being thrown off his broom.

_See what happens when you start caring for people? All these things you have to think about? How much easier to just let go of it all, lock yourself away and not care about her. No-one would have faulted you for letting her fall. No-one would blame you. It wouldn't have been your fault. You can't trust your emotions, they'll get you in trouble. You've lost the Cup, you know that. She would have been okay, someone would have saved her, but you had to be the one to catch her. Well, congratulations. You might as well give up on defeating Voldemort, because he'll always be able to use people against you, he'll always have something to hold over your head, and you'll always be ruled by your feelings. Just give up._

Harry ignored the thoughts in his head. They were thoughts he'd had been having for months, but right now, with Ginny lying unconscious in his arms, they were thoughts that he couldn't bring himself to believe. If he'd lost the Cup, then hadn't he saved a life?

The broomstick stopped a few feet from the end of the pitch. Harry slumped exhaustedly back, going limp. His mind was in turmoil as he held Ginny tightly against his chest, unwilling to let go. Absently, he noticed Cho and the rest of the Ravenclaw team celebrating, borne aloft by their housemates. He was glad for her, winning the Cup outright in her last year.

His vision was gradually blocked as people gathered around them. He recognised Madam Pomfrey - he'd seen more of her so far that year than almost anyone else - but the number of people clustered around blocked out the light. He couldn't see their faces, couldn't tell who they were. He kept a firm hold on Ginny, even as Madam Pomfrey probed at her shoulder and neck.

Then Dumbledore came through the crowd, parting it as easily as if it were mist. It was quite impossible not to recognise the Headmaster, Harry thought dully. He seemed to glow, his long silvery hair and beard shining brightly.

"Harry, you can't help her now. It's over. Let go."

"I had to catch her," Harry said thickly. He seemed inexpressibly weary, as though he was once again feeling the effects of a fit of exhaustion. "I couldn't let her fall."

"That's right, Harry... just let go, now..."

Dumbledore reached down and easily lifted Ginny from Harry's grasp, ignoring a squawk of protest from Madam Pomfrey at having her patient moved. Dumbledore conjured a stretcher from thin air, and placed Ginny gently upon it. With a wave of his wand, it set off at a fast walking pace towards the castle. Madam Pomfrey hurried after it, and a number of those surrounding Harry went as well.

Dumbledore reached down and pulled Harry upright. Harry stood listlessly, staring up at Dumbledore's twinkling eyes.

"We lost the match?" he asked. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, Miss Chang had an unimpeded run at the Snitch when you decided to catch Miss Weasley."

"Ron'll be furious," Harry said."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore smiled. "But you did a very good thing, Harry, I'm sure you know that."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, sure. But whenever I do something like this, it always goes wrong, doesn't it?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Harry, the next time you see Ronald Weasley, please ask him if he thinks that your actions went wrong. If you had caught the Snitch then Miss Weasley would have fallen, and fallen hard. She was falling too fast for a cushioning charm. Only someone flying could have saved her, do you understand? You were the only person who could have saved her, and you did save her."

Harry nodded silently, persistent thoughts echoing in his mind. He felt lost and unsure, unable to decide what he would do next.

He looked up. Hermione was standing just in front of him. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and he noticed that her fingers were bleeding. The cuts looked almost like teeth marks, and Harry realised that Hermione had been biting her fingers.

_Why, though? The match? Ginny's fall?_

He was about to ask her, when she said: "Ron's gone up to the hospital wing with Ginny and the rest of the team. They weren't upset, Harry. Dumbledore was right, you did the right thing."

Harry stayed on the Quidditch pitch for a long time, waiting until the stadium was completely empty before making his way to the changing rooms. He couldn't bring himself to face anyone. He needed time to think, indeed he needed time to work out exactly _what_ he should be thinking.

With a small sigh, he trudged back to the changing rooms, stripped off his sweat stained robes, and stood for a very long time under a scalding hot shower as he thought about his life, and what exactly he was going to do about it.

_To be continued..._

**Gryphonmistress:** Lots of people are wondering about Dean and Cho...

**Eric2:** Not so quick this time, but I hope it was worth the wait.

**Silver Warrior:** You're right: Harry'll really have his work cut out for him, if ever he decides to apologise.

**Daily Prophet Reporting:** Chapters are now broken up using ff.n's handy-dandy horizontal line. Why the site is choosing to delete my even more handy-dandy asterisks I don't know **scowl** Anyway, things are coming to a head, as you put it, very soon indeed. The next chapter features a big-ass sword fight, and then Harry and Dumbledore are going to take a little trip.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine: Fighting Talk

**_Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fighting Talk_**

Harry was alone in the Great Hall. Dinner had long since been cleared away, and he now stood in the area between the staff table and the house tables.

He hadn't eaten. Instead, he'd been in the library. Gilderoy Lockhart had been there with Professor Skeeter, trying to read seven books at once and muttering frantically under his breath. Harry had given his former and current Defence teachers a wide berth, hoping to avoid another conversation with Lockhart. But Lockhart had seemed far too busy to talk about anything anyway. Harry gathered that he had been the only person Moody and Diggle had trusted enough to let him carry on researching the Temple of Le Fay, and while Skeeter was helping, it was slow progress. It certainly didn't seem as though that Ministry would be assigning any more research wizards to help him out.

Quietly, Harry had taken some of the books from beside Lockhart and began poring over them. He had found his ability to concentrate improving a lot over the course of the year, almost as though his mind was eager to focus on work.

That afternoon, however, he had been unable to do any work whatsoever. His mind had been churning, throwing up fragments of the Quidditch match that morning, of the fight with the Boggart six months before, and the many arguments he'd had in between when maybe, possibly, he'd been on the wrong side.

"_Gladius!_"

The smoky facsimile of Godric Gryffindor's sword formed in his hand, and Harry stood still and silent in the deserted Hall. Above him, the enchanted ceiling showed that the pleasant spring day had given way to a thundery, cloudy night. The torches that lined the walls of the Great Hall guttered furiously in that brackets, but all they seemed to achieve was to give an edge to the darkness.

Harry walked through a set of defensive manoeuvres that Dean had taught him. He gradually increased the speed, moving faster and faster until he was practically jumping back and forth, the blade whirring in his hand.

Eventually he paused for breath, panting furiously. He gulped at a pitcher of water Dobby had supplied him with.

There was a slow handclap in the darkness behind Harry. He spun and with a "_Finite!_" pointed his wand at the shadows.

"Show yourself," he called. "Come into the light or I'll start throwing hexes."

Dean stepped into the light, his own Gladius held loosely by his side. Harry felt his anger ignite deep inside him. He didn't want to deal with Dean right now.

"No need to use spells," he said calmly. "I figured you could use some company, that's all."

"I don't," Harry said, shoving his wand into his belt and folding his arms.

"Fine," Dean said. "Are you done here? It's a good spot for practising swordplay but, well, I suppose you know that already."

"No, I'm not done," Harry said. "I was just starting."

"Right," Dean said. "You were dropping your shoulder on that last go-round. That'd cost you in a real fight."

"I'll bear it in mind," Harry said. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like some privacy."

"There's plenty of room," Dean said, lazily bringing his own sword up into a guard and running through a languid series of motions that Harry couldn't have matched with a year to practise them.

"Look, if you're here to make me feel bad about losing the Cup-"

Dean stopped in mid movement. "Is that what you think?" He sounded incredulous. "Bloody hell, Harry, you saved Ginny's life. I heard what Dumbledore said to you, you know. If he thinks you did the right thing, then you did, right?

"Now, I'll admit I did have an ulterior motive in coming down here," Dean confided to his roommate as he started his advanced practise again. "I was wondering exactly what you were doing down here when you should be in the hospital wing."

"I'm not hurt," Harry said quietly, turning his back on Dean and beginning his own routine.

"Not what I asked," Dean said, huffing slightly as he increased the speed of his movements. Harry cast a glance over his shoulder, watching for a second as Dean went through a particularly intricate series of moves that turned his heavy sword into a fast moving blur. Harry huffed slightly and went back to his own practise.

"I meant," Dean continued when he finished his series, "why aren't you up in the hospital wing, holding Ginny's hand and waiting for her to wake up?"

Harry said nothing. The series of moves he was working on required a lot of concentration.

"I mean, I know she's going to be okay, thankfully," Dean went on, practising sidesteps and hops. "Still, I'm sure she'd like to see a friendly face when she wakes up."

Harry maintained his silence, slashing at the air with his sword.

"You did save her life, you know. I imagine she'd be grateful. Ron's pretty pleased with you right now."

Slash, hack, went Harry's sword.

"I know Ron's happy enough. I mean, it's Ron, right? I thought he'd be furious-"

Hack, slash, hack.

"-but he's pretty chirpy. Reckons that he's still got next year to win it again. He's pretty happy for Cho, really. Says she deserves it for snogging you."

_Hack_, slash.

"But that's Ron for you, right? He won't admit that he's grateful to you, but then, why should he? You've been acting like a first class sod for the last six months anyway, and then you found a way to upgrade that to, well, premium class sod, I suppose. Maybe 'cos you got your magic back?"

_Hack_, slash. Hack, slash, _hack_.

"Anyway, just when everyone was ready to go and give up on you, you go and save Ginny's life. If you actually wanted people to stop liking you, it was a pretty bad move."

_Hack_, slash. Hack, hack, _slash_, hack.

"I mean, it's going to be really hard to convince people that they should just give up on you now. It wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done. I guess you must really feel something for Ginny, at least, even if you don't about anyone else."

_Hack, slash, hack. Slash, slash, hack, slash, hack._

"I suppose it's her you think about when you come up with that bloody great big Patronus of yours, isn't it? I guess it just goes to show, you really see someone's true character when you threaten someone they l-"

Harry swung around, sword raised above his head and crashing down towards where Dean was standing.

"Shut up, SHUT UP, _SHUT UP!!!_" Harry yelled. His blade clashed harmlessly with Dean's as Dean raised his sword to block it with inches to spare.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Dean asked, the torchlight flickering in his eyes. "Can't stand to hear the truth?"

"Just shut up!" Harry said. "What do you want from me?" He pressed down on his sword, trying to get past Dean's blade, but Dean held firm, easily keeping Harry from pressing home.

"Me? I don't want anything from you, Harry," Dean said calmly. "And if you want me to shut up, then I will."

Harry relaxed immediately, and Dean felt the pressure from Harry's sword on his lessen.

"If-"

The pressure increased again, and Dean had to take half a step back. He grunted in surprise. Harry was stronger than he looked.

"If you can beat me in a duel. Then I'll never say anything about you and Ginny as long as I live. If _I_ win, you have to admit to Ginny how you feel about her."

Harry's own eyes gleamed ferociously. "Fine," he snarled. "Anything to make you shut up."

"Good. _Finite!_" Dean stepped aside as his sword vanished. Harry toppled forward a step, the resistance to his sword vanishing.

Dean stuck his wand in his belt, and stripped off his jacket and jumper. He went through a series of stretching exercises and then drew his wand again. He turned to face Harry, who was still standing where he had been, glaring at Dean fixedly.

"Well then," Dean said brightly. "Let's get to this, shall we? _Gladius!_"

Barely had Dean's sword hissed into existence, then Harry attacked.

He dove in with a powerful overhand blow that Dean was barely able to block. Dean dived backwards, using his self-defence training to turn the move into a backward roll. He came up several feet from Harry, who glared at him.

"Bad move to use such an obvious attack," he said. "I could see that coming a mile off.

Harry took to pacing backwards and forwards. A few steps, turn, a few steps, turn, a few steps.

"Didn't seem that way to me," he said. "Seemed more like you didn't see that coming at all."

He slashed at the floor of the Great Hall, sparks flying up where the faux-metal of his sword scraped the flagstones.

"Come on, then," he said. "You're the great swordsman. Come and get me."

"I've been paying attention in Ron's tactics classes," Dean said, laying the flat of his sword over his shoulder. "I'm going to let you come and get me."

Harry scowled, and stepped forward. He kept the point of his sword level, aimed at Dean's throat.

Dean waited, motionless. He allowed Harry to move within striking range, and then shuffled slightly to one side.

Harry's frown deepened, and he turned to keep his blade on Dean.

"Well?" Dean said. "Attack."

"I don't want to," Harry said. "You've got some trick up your sleeve, I know it."

"No tricks," Dean said. He waved his free arm, indicating his short-sleeved shirt. "No sleeves."

Harry smirked, and for a fraction of a second, Dean relaxed.

Harry attacked again, bringing his sword around in a swing that would have caught Dean just beneath his ribs if he hadn't blocked it. He frowned.

"Playing for keeps, Harry? You think that if you'll kill me it'll make up for saving Ginny? Tell me, how much do you care for her? It must be a lot if-"

Harry attacked again, firing off a series of hard shots that Dean picked off one by one. Harry never came close to breaking through Dean's defence. He was swinging wildly, operating on pure emotion.

Dean knocked Harry's blade away, and advanced, backing Harry up.

"As I was saying, it must be a lot if you were prepared to risk everything you've spent the last six months doing," Dean said. He held the tip of his sword at Harry's throat. "Six months hard work trying to get us to leave you alone. And you were so close! No one I spoke to wanted to be in your study sessions, Harry. You could have just cancelled them, but you had to make people hate you, didn't you? And to give it all up for Ginny? Well, I don't think it's just that you like her, do you Harry? You really l-"

"_Expelliarmus__!_"__

Dean's sword was blasted from his grip and sent clattering away into the darkness. Harry now held his sword at Dean's throat, and Dean could see the wand inside glowing brightly, illuminating the scene.

"Your mistake, Dean," Harry said calmly. "You should have said no magic. You're good with a sword, but you can't beat me with a wand."

"I taught you that," Dean conceded. "'Your opponent can always cheat', I remember. Well, I cheated too."

Dean dove away from Harry and drew another wand from inside his jacket.

"Seamus lent me his wand," Dean said. "I figured you'd have something like that up _your_ sleeve."

"So you did come here to fight," Harry snarled.

"I came prepared," Dean said. "_Accio_ Gladius!"

His sword fllew out of the shadows and dropped into his hand.

"Don't mind me," he added, tucking Seamus' wand into his belt. Then he set his guard, and beckoned for Harry to attack.

Harry did.

The duel raged back and forth, no quarter asked, none given. Dean had taught Harry almost everything he knew while Harry had a few tricks of his own. Occasional spells would fizz from the tips of the two swords. They were weaker spells, to be certain, but Harry was still carrying a lot of stored power and there didn't seem to Dean as though there was much difference between a weakened hex from Harry and a normal one from anyone else. Certainly when a Disarming hex from Harry missed Dean but hit the stone floor, it left a smoking patch that Dean took one look at and swallowed.

He pivoted, and swept a low, arcing blow at Harry, the blade glinting in the torchlight as it rose upwards. Harry twisted, and for a second the point of the blade seemed to be plunging directly at the small of Harry's back.

Then Harry twisted further, and the blade sliced cleanly through the material of his t-shirt, missing the flesh beneath.

"Huh," Dean gasped, declining to press his advantage in favour of catching his breath. "Maybe it's not you I'm stabbing in the back, then."

Harry's eyes flashed, his mouth contorted into a snarl.

"You already did," he hissed, and his blade flashed between them, cutting through the material of Dean's shirt and leaving a long gash across his chest. Dean guessed that it had missed his body by only a few millimetres. He swallowed with difficulty. He had a distinct feeling that he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

After several minutes of intense duelling, Dean was out of breath, panting heavily with his sword hanging limply at the end of his tired arm. He backed away from Harry, whose sword was aimed point-first at Dean's throat.

Dean eventually backed into something solid. Hesitant touching led him to realise that it was one of the house tables, probably the Slytherin one. He looked up into Harry's eyes, so cold despite the flickering firelight they reflected, and shivered.

Harry looked so furious, and yet so in control at the same time. Dean _had_ come to provoke him into a fight, one that Dean had been confident of winning. He wanted Harry to face up to his mistakes and just admit that he cared for Ginny. Now, as Harry held his sword at Dean's throat, Dean wondered whether he might have miscalculated somewhat.

Dean gathered his strength and swung his heavy broadsword up, swatting aside Harry's much lighter blade without much effort. With a panted "_Finite!_" he cancelled the Gladius spell and scrambled onto the Slytherin table. Breathing heavily, he drew Seamus' wand from his belt and was about to conjure the much shorter sword from it when Harry lifted his own sword up, aiming the point at Dean.

Even before Harry cast the spell, Dean was throwing himself backwards, hoping that he wouldn't land on anything too painful. Even so, as Harry roared "_Expelliarmus__!_" once more, Dean felt his grip on the two wands loosen, and they clattered to the tabletop just as he landed, cracking his head against a heavy pewter candelabra.

Harry stepped carefully onto the bench next to the table, and then up onto the table itself. Dean watched him approaching groggily as he gently probed the egg shaped lump swelling up on the back of his head. Glancing down at the table, he saw that his two wands were lying too far away to reach, and a surge of frustration washed over him. He reached behind him and, as Harry moved within range, swung the candelabra up and around, knocking Harry's sword from his hand and sending it clattering away under the Hufflepuff table.

Dean clambered wearily to his feet with the candelabra still in one hand.

"Okay, ready to concede?"

Harry's scowl deepened but, rather than replying, he jumped off the Slytherin table and dived under the Hufflepuff table, following the fading glow that his wand was still emitting.

Dean swore, then scooped up his wands. With a quick "_Ferula!_" he strapped them to his hands and followed Harry down onto the floor.

The two roommates faced one another across the Hufflepuff table, swords drawn and pointed at one another.

"We won't settle this by fighting," Harry said at last.

"You think?" Dean asked, his gaze not wavering.

"Yeah. You're better with a sword, but I can cast spells better than you can. It's an even fight."

"No way," Dean said. "I can take you, Harry. I'm not fighting to be selfish, not like you. You're just trying to stop yourself getting hurt and, if I can be blunt, you're acting like a complete -" Dean called Harry something that would even have impressed Ron. "You think that people will abandon you? You're being pretty high handed to take that choice away from them. In case you hadn't noticed, no one's gone and joined Voldemort yet. Everyone you know is fighting You-Know-Who, hell, even _Draco Malfoy_ isn't on his side, and you thought he was the biggest git in the world, didn't you?"

"What the hell do you know?" Harry yelled. "Do you have to live with what I do? Do you have to find a way to get through the day, knowing that any moment Voldemort might show up and decide to finish you off? Do you have to constantly think about what spells you might use if you fight him again? _Did he kill your parents?_"

Dean stood impassively, staring at Harry.

"God, Rita Skeeter was right about you all along," he said at last. "You've gone over the edge, mate. Listen to yourself! I really thought that you had it all figured out, and then you turn around and try and throw it all away. You don't appreciate just how lucky you are, do you know that? You've got friends who've always stood by you, a girl who's crazy about you, the strongest wizard in the world prepared to defend you no matter what, and you're dead set on trying to give that all up because you're scared they'll go away? For God's sake, Harry, wake up! They've taken everything that's been thrown at them, and they're still prepared to stand by you. Hell, they've taken nothing but rubbish from you for the last six months, and they're still on your side. Doesn't that mean _anything_ to you?"

Harry seemed to be shaking as he stood across the table from Dean. He raised his hand to his face and, to Dean's surprise, wiped away tears.

"Shut up," Harry said quietly. "You're wrong. You're wrong, do you hear me? Now fight, and I'll shut you up for good."

Dean scowled. _I was so sure I got through to him there. Merlin's _beard,_ he's stubborn!_

Mirroring one another's movements, Harry and Dean stepped onto the benches that were either side of the Hufflepuff table, and then up onto the table itself.

They stood facing one another over an elaborate, three-armed candlestick. Both fighters carried short, light swords that would be less taxing during a long duel. They bowed stiffly, as their fencing teachers had taught them to do, and then set themselves into position.

Dean had a sense of something new about Harry. He was calm again, the emotion that had been present a few moments before was absent from his face. It was as though he had made a choice, as though he had faced Dean's accusation and they had made him retreat even further into the shell that he had constructed around himself over the preceding six months.

"I'm right," Harry said, his voice barely a whisper.  "It's me who has to fight, not anyone else. It's me who has to make the choices. And my choice is that I don't risk the people I care about. Voldemort will use them against me, and I can't give him that opportunity. He'll always come after me until one of us is dead, but no one else should have to suffer because of it."

Dean glared at him.

"Do you even listen to what you're saying?" he asked. "You sound like Hagrid when he gets drunk, do you know that? As far as I can tell, you're worried about you getting hurt by other people, about other people getting hurt because of you, and God only knows what else."

Harry glared back. "So I'm scared about more than one thing. That's not impossible."

"Why can't you just accept that your friends care for you and they don't care about the risks that that brings!" Dean yelled, his patience evaporating.

"Because I can't!" Harry yelled. "Because it's all me! Because everything is about me, all right? Every year, it seems like every last, single, final thing in this world revolves around me and how can I live with that unless I do the very best I can think of? And who the _hell_ are you to judge me?"

Harry lunged forwards, swinging the sword as he ploughed through the candelabra. Dean barely had time to register the deep gouges that the metal sliced into Harry's skin before he jumped back, bringing his own sword up to block Harry's swing.

The two of them moved back and forth along the length of the Hufflepuff table, scattering plates and cutlery as they went. At one point, Dean slipped on a plate and staggered clumsily off the table and onto the floor, before recovering and hopping neatly onto the bench of the Ravenclaw table. Harry followed, and soon the duel was rejoined with a fresh set of silverware to send clattering to the floor.

Dean was faintly surprised to see that Harry was refraining from casting spells. He suspected that he had managed to goad Harry into non-magical combat, that Harry was eager to prove himself equal to anything Dean could manage. Dean wondered whether this was a good thing. Harry had been an exceptionally driven student and he had been learning from Professor Skeeter as well as Dean himself.

Again, Dean found himself wondering if he had bitten more than he could chew in the duel.

_It's Harry Potter, for heaven's sake! He's a bloody hero, how do you beat a hero?_

There was a pause in the fighting as the duellists caught their breath. Dean's entire head glistened with sweat, while Harry's t-shirt was soaking wet. Dean tried to spit, but his mouth was too dry. The two fighters eyed one another warily, weighing their swords in their hands. They stood atop the Ravenclaw table, chests heaving as they measured one another. Dean felt certain that the final act of the duel was about to begin.

Harry took one step forward, flicking a platter away with his foot before setting himself in an aggressive posture.

Dean took one step backwards, sending a miraculously untouched tureen of cutlery to the floor with a loud crash before calmly arraying himself defensively.

The eyes of the two duellists glistened as they faced one another silently. The time for words had passed, and now there would be only action.

Dean held his sword in both hands, pointing straight up, ready for anything Harry would attempt.

Harry's sword was held loosely in his leading hand, the wand at its core still glowing faintly. The light shone up onto Harry's face and to Dean Harry looked somewhat gruesome. The light distorted his features, leaving Harry looking distinctly unnatural.

The two roommates stared into one another's eyes.

Harry feinted forwards, pulling his attack back almost before it had begun.

Dean didn't move.

Harry shifted his weight so that he was now in a defensive pose that invited Dean to make the next move.

Dean took two quick steps forwards and brought the flat of his sword around as hard as he could, driving it into the flat of Harry's sword with a crash that reverberated around the room.

As Dean stepped back, he saw Harry wince, and smiled slightly to himself. Years of self-defence training had left him with rough, callused hands. Harry, in contrast, had had nothing to protect him from the shock of the two swords meeting so forcefully. Dean was sure that Harry's hands were aching now.

Harry nodded, as though he had read Dean's mind.

Then it was Harry's turn to come forward, and he went through a pattern of varied strikes that forced Dean backwards several steps, trading space for time as he sought to block Harry's quick movements.

Harry didn't press his advantage. Instead he moved backwards a couple of steps, once more inviting Dean to attack.

Dean stood motionless, watching Harry.

Harry stood motionless, watching Dean.

Then the two duellists moved as one, coming together in a resounding crash of blades, pivoting and stepping backwards and down easily onto the benches without missing a beat.

Dean flicked his sword at Harry. Harry leant backward and out of range.

Harry flicked his sword at Dean. Dean took the challenge on the tip of his blade and forced Harry's sword upwards.

The two stepped up onto the table again, its surface by now bare of obstructions. Dean noticed that Harry was limping slightly from the cuts he'd suffered from the candelabra, but that the cuts also didn't appear to be as deep as he'd thought.

The two moved forward again, striking at one another quickly. Dean took the offensive with a series of sweeping blows that had Harry defending at shoulder height. He quickly swept his sword in low, slicing through the material of Harry's t-shirt. However, the shirt was one of Dudley's old ones, and was more than baggy enough to allow Harry to go untouched.

Harry stepped backwards instinctively, then pushed quickly forwards again while Dean's sword was still off to one side. Dean, whose swing had thrown him slightly off balance, was seemingly easy prey for Harry, but he moved nimbly backwards, sweeping his sword back around to keep Harry at bay.

Harry pressed forward regardless and Dean, reluctant to skewer Harry on his sword, had to back up several paces as Harry came forwards.

Then Harry jabbed his sword several times at Dean, and Dean brought his sword up to counter each blow, the clashing of the two blades echoing through the Great Hall.

Harry backed off, with Dean's sword flashing between the two of them so quickly that it was only a blur in the faint light from Harry's glowing wand. Harry had to continually move backwards, having seemingly given up hope of defending himself with his sword.

Suddenly, Harry ducked and rolled under Dean's sword, rising to his feet inside Dean's reach and making Dean stagger backwards in surprise. Harry reached up and grabbed Dean's arm, jolting the short sword free of the bindings that had held it to Dean's hand.

Dean was unarmed and Harry suddenly had his sword at his throat.

"Yield," Harry said, the word rasping in his dry throat.

"_Gladius!_" Dean croaked, his own broadsword springing fully formed into his hand. One sweep of the heavy sword sent Harry's sword flying from his tired hands, and now Dean had his sword at Harry's throat.

"Yield," Dean added.

Harry looked at him in frustration. At the edges of his vision, he could see Harry's fingers flexing, as though Harry was tempted to try and grapple with Dean. But the blade of Dean's sword was nearly three feet long, and there was no way that Harry could get around it.

"It won't do Ginny any good, me telling her how I feel," Harry said at last, after what seemed like a very long silence.

"How _do_ you feel?" Dean asked.

Harry glared at him. "If you don't know, then why all this?" he asked.

"Because I think you care for Ginny more than anyone else in your life," Dean rasped slowly. "And if that's the case, then you should tell her, and give her the choice of whether she thinks she'd abandon you for You-Know-Who in the future. It's called a risk. If you don't take them, what sort of life do you have?"

"You still don't understand," Harry croaked. "I saw it all, and I couldn't fight him. Why would anyone choose to stand beside me? All I do is bring pain and unhappiness into people's lives. I don't, I _won't_ blame them for choosing him. What do I have to offer anyone? Why would anyone choose to take all the trouble I cause when Voldemort is so powerful?"

"Why indeed, Harry?" A new voice came from the shadows of the Great Hall. Dean and Harry spun around to see Dumbledore stepping into the faint torchlight. He was holding Harry's and Seamus' wands.

"There you go," he said, handing them back. "Do try and avoid losing them again. I might not be around to catch them next time."

He looked around, and muttered another spell. The lights in the Great Hall brightened considerably, leaving Harry and Dean blinking in the glare.

"An impressive mess you've made," Dumbledore commented. They looked around the Great Hall, and marvelled at the complete destruction that had been wrought on the place settings of the Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables.

"Er," Dean said, trying to think of anything he could say. Realising that he still had his sword at Harry's throat, he muttered a quick "_Finite_" and tried to free his wand from the bindings.

"You may wish to come down from the table now," Dumbledore said evenly. Dean and Harry did so, avoiding one another's eyes. They stood before Dumbledore, awaiting what Dean was sure would be a huge punishment.

_Trashing the Great Hall? Unsupervised magic? Unsupervised _swordfights_? Oh, I'm going to be in detention 'til I'm thirty._

"Mr. Thomas, for recognising that sometimes even the smartest among us can need sense beating into us, you may take twenty points for Gryffindor house."

Dean blinked. Automatically, he replied "Thank you, sir," and then shut his mouth before he could undo his remarkable good luck.

"I would suggest that you go back to Gryffindor Tower now, before it becomes too late. It is now ten minutes to nine, and I am sure Mr. Filch will remove your hard-won points, and probably many more, should you be caught out of bounds one second after nine o'clock."

"Yes sir," Dean said, preparing to leave.

"Yourself and Mr. Potter here will serve detention in the kitchens after dinner for the next three days," Dumbledore added.

Dean winced. "Yes sir," he said, before collecting his jacket and jumper and heading out of the Great Hall.

"A most remarkable young man," Dumbledore said, once Dean was gone. "Although not one, at the moment anyway, who I feel entirely capable of answering the questions you were putting to him. No, for those answers, I suspect we will have to look somewhat further afield."

Harry looked dully at the Headmaster.

"What?" he rasped.

Dumbledore smiled at him. He pursed his lips, and whistled sharply. There was an answering trill, a sound so beautiful that Harry found himself smiling for the first time in what felt like months. He turned without thinking to the doors to the Great Hall, just as Fawkes the phoenix swooped through them. The fire-red bird soared high above their heads, before gliding gracefully downwards and alighting on Dumbledore's outstretched arm.

"Do you feel up to a trip to London, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, yeah, I suppose," Harry said. "Where are we going? Diagon Alley?"

"Not quite, Harry," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly. "Take hold of one of Fawkes' tail feathers, Harry. Visiting hours are, alas, finished this evening, however, the ward at St. Mungo's that we are visiting is closed to most visitors anyway. I am sure they will not object to our odd arrival time."

Harry felt a surge of hope, deep in his chest, but he tried to quell it as he looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face. He wanted to ask, but couldn't bring himself to voice the question. It had been so long!

Dumbledore, however, seemed to understand what Harry wanted to know.

"Yes, Harry," he said with a broad smile. "It is finally time for you to see Sirius again."

_To be continued..._

**Silver Warrior:** Dean gave it his best shot. You'll see in the next chapter how successful he was...

**hpgoldensnitch****:** I don't go into detail in the story but Ginny is learning Occlumency to break the link between herself and Harry.

**Gryphonmistress****:** Well, there's a little animosity here, but I hope you agree that it was worth it. By the time Harry comes back from St. Mungo's, things may have changed...

**Eric2:** What Harry does about his realisation will be the interesting part, I hope.

**Cygnus Crux:** I'm hoping my plan lives up to your expectations but I'm very aware of what you're capable of when you write, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see... I haven't commented on your other reviews because I tend to only comment on reviews of the latest chapter, but I know that Temple has a quite slow start. It wasn't deliberate, but there was just a lot happening at that point in the story. I'm glad you've decided to stick with it, at least this far, and hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

**Frantic:** More intensity for you.

**Milamber****:** Apologies for the Brisbane/Adelaide slips. Nick and Josh were based on friends of mine from Adelaide, but I also have friends in Brisbane, and I mix the two up frequently. As for the hacking into little pieces, well, bear with me

**Daily Prophet Reporting: **Glad you've enjoyed the Quidditch this year. I'm enjoying your Quidditch too. I might even find time to send _you_ some reviews for a change. Maybe...

**Zaptor****:** Thanks! Hope you enjoy the last few chapters.


	31. Chapter Thirty: Talking Sense

**_Chapter Thirty: Talking Sense_**

There was a rushing sound, and the Great Hall swirled around Harry, Fawkes and Dumbledore in a vortex of light and colour. As fast as the swirling was, Harry still felt as though his feet were on the ground.

_If this is travelling by phoenix magic,_ he thought, _I definitely prefer it to a Portkey._

The swirling seemed to lessen slightly, and Dumbledore looked around them.

"Nearly there, Harry," he said. Harry realised that there was no sound from the swirling vortex.

The vortex slowed still further, before gradually dissipating like a morning mist in the midday sun.

"Headmaster! Harry!"

The swirling gone, Harry turned, slightly disoriented to see the unmistakable creamy-yellow walls of a hospital around him. He looked up to see Lupin, standing beside a heavy looking door with a look of slight surprise on his face.

"Good evening, Remus. I received your letter a few moments ago. I deemed it best that Harry should see yourself and Sirius now, rather than delay matters any further."

"Of course," Remus said, a small smile lighting up his weary face. "Harry, you're looking... injured. What happened to you?"

Harry followed Remus gaze to his ripped jeans. He pulled aside the torn material, and looked down at the grazes that ran the length of his legs.

"Er, nothing," he said. "I fell."

Lupin looked at his former pupil blandly, but a part of him was faintly impressed by Harry's newfound ability to lie convincingly. James Potter, he remembered, had been good at it as well.

"Well," he said, not questioning Harry's lie. "You'll want to see Sirius, I imagine."

Harry nodded immediately, then blushed slightly. "It's good to see you too," he said. Lupin grinned.

"It's alright, Harry. He's eager to see you too. I'll show you up."

Lupin pulled open the heavy iron door with immense difficulty. Air rushed in from their side of the door to the sterile white corridor beyond.

"Negative pressure," Lupin commented. "It stops anything nasty getting out. Of course, Sirius is the only one in here, and he's not contagious, but they keep the spell going anyway."

Lupin led Harry and Dumbledore up a flight of stairs. Harry was beginning to feel blinded by the bright whiteness, and noticed that there didn't really seem to be any corridors anymore. Instead, they seemed to just be walking through white, and Harry thought briefly of a film he had seen of Muggle astronauts in space, surrounded by a vast, black, emptiness.

"It's a cleaning spell," Lupin said, glancing over his shoulder and seeing Harry glancing curiously around. "It should kill germs, clean off any dirt, that sort of thing. It'll probably clean up your legs where you fell over, as well," he added carelessly. Harry didn't react, he noticed.

Harry was watching Lupin's wand, which was hovering over his hand. Every now and then, it would swivel, pointing left or right and Lupin followed the directions unquestioningly. At one point, it swiveled to point downward, and Lupin led Harry and Dumbledore down a long, sloping ramp.

Eventually, Lupin stopped, his wand pointing upwards. Harry squinted, and was just able to make out a set of stairs vanishing into the whiteness.

"Sirius is in a room upstairs," Lupin told Harry. "He's being debriefed - again - by one of the other Order members at the moment. I'll go in first and make sure they're done."

They trooped up the stairs, and Harry stood with Dumbledore on the landing as Remus unsealed the heavy looking door that stood between them and Sirius.

Harry felt nervous and sick. His stomach churned as he tried to imagine what he would say to Sirius.

_It's been so long! I hope he's okay. Dumbledore and Remus never really told me what was wrong and I-_

Harry swallowed with difficulty as Lupin undid the final lock on the door to Sirius' room, opened the door a little and slipped inside.

_I didn't want to ask. God, what would I do if Voldemort turned Sirius?_

There was a scream, and a loud yell from inside the room. They were followed by a loud crash and a string of ripe swear words that made Harry blink several times. Sirius' hoarse voice carried clearly through the thick door, and was joined by a female voice, lower and placating. Above it all was loud laughter that Harry recognised as Lupin's. The door opened again, and Lupin fell out, pottery shards peppering his prematurely grey hair.

He lay on his back on the floor, sniggering loudly, one hand over his eyes as his body shook. Harry and Dumbledore watched him carefully until the shaking began to subside, and then helped him to his feet.

"Wow," Lupin said, wiping tears from his face as lent back against the wall. "I suppose I really should have knocked."

The door to Sirius' room opened again, and a slight figure slipped through into the corridor. She looked around guiltily, her robes askew and her cheeks a fiery red. Harry vaguely recognised her as a former Gryffindor who had finished Hogwarts at the same time as Percy Weasley.

Lupin grinned at her.

"Miss Smith," Dumbledore intoned. "You have concluded your business with Sirius for this evening?"

"Er, yes," the woman said. "I should be going back to, um, back to headquarters," she said, without meeting anyone's gaze.

She turned to go downstairs, caught her foot on the hem of her loose robes, and nearly went flying head first down the stairs. Lupin caught her, and she nodded quickly to him before hurrying away, her footsteps clattering loudly as she rushed embarrassedly away from them.

Lupin sniggered as he opened the door once more. Harry stood behind him as the door swung open.

"You old rogue," Lupin said, his voice full of a cheery delight in catching Sirius in a delicate moment. "She's young enough to be your daughter."

"You misconceived, moon-fearing, doddering old git!" Sirius yelled. "It's been _years_ since I..."

Sirius voice died away as Lupin stepped aside. Godfather and godson regarded one another for the first time in nearly a year.

Sirius looked worn and frail, obviously still feeling the effects of his exposure to the spell that had put him in the hospital. His hair was long and thick, though, and a jet-black colour that gave him an air of youth that Harry hadn't seen in him before.

He was sitting up in bed, the sheets strewn about him and his shirt lying on he floor. From the way Sirius suddenly clasped the sheet around him, Harry had a feeling that he wasn't wearing much beneath it. A smile blossomed on Harry's face that was every bit as wide and mischievous as the one that Lupin was sporting.

Sirius was shocked by the change in his godson. Harry was noticeably taller than he had been the summer before. His clothes now looked tight on him, and the jeans were much too short in the leg. Harry's eyes were where Sirius saw the main change, however. They were careworn, and tormented. Although Harry was only sixteen, lines were already radiating from the corners outwards. Looking at his godson standing side by side with Remus, Sirius was struck by the similarity between the two, and wondered what it was that Harry was worrying about that had created that similarity.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry said tentatively. "How are you?"

"I'd have been a lot better if you'd showed up fifteen minutes later," Sirius said automatically. He saw Harry flinch at the remark, and wondered why.

"What about you, Harry?" he asked, indicating the armchairs that surrounded his bed. "Pull up a chair. Remus says you've got a lot to tell me. How's Ginny? And Ron and Hermione?"

"I haven't told him, Harry," Remus said, his smile fading. Harry looked at him, and then sighed.

"Told me what?" Sirius asked. "What's happened? Is something wrong?"

"Not... exactly," Remus said, taking a seat on the far side of Sirius' bed and helping himself to an apple from the basket of fruit on the bedside cabinet. Dumbledore came fully into the room and shut the door, before taking a seat beside Remus.

"Harry's been having his usual interesting year," Lupin said. "I'm sure he's dying to tell you all about it."

Harry glared daggers at his former teacher, feeling as though he'd been set up. But Sirius was looking at him questioningly, and Harry sighed.

_I had to tell him sometime._

He sighed, and took a seat across the bed from Remus and Dumbledore. Sirius looked from him to the two adult wizards with a growing look of suspicion on his face.

"So, is someone going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to start hexing people to get answers?" he growled.

"There is no need for that, Sirius," Dumbledore said, calmly. "Remus has decided it is best for you to hear about Harry's year from Harry himself. It would have done you no good to hear of it in fragmented form, considering your condition."

Sirius subsided into frustrated mutterings, scowling at Remus and Dumbledore from his bed. He turned to Harry.

"So, what have you been getting up to this year, Harry?" he asked.

Harry looked down at the sheets on Sirius' bed.

_Where to start?_

"I was having dreams about Voldemort again," Harry began. "I was tired, and I was getting worried about the Dueling Club. Nothing seemed to be going right, I couldn't teach the Patronus properly."

"Yeah, I remember," Sirius said. "We got that letter from you, asking for advice. Good code, by the way. 'Staggering achievements'. I liked that."

Harry smiled shyly at his godfather before continuing.

"You suggested a Boggart, and we found one in the school staff room. I hadn't been sleeping well, and when I went to tackle it, I..."

Harry tailed off, his eyes suddenly stinging with tears as he plunged back into the memories of that Halloween night. He dragged his arm angrily over his eyes before carrying on.

"I wasn't ready for it. It beat me. Ron found me unconscious, and I woke up days later in the hospital wing. I'd burnt out my ability to use magic."

Sirius' mouth fell open on hearing this, and he looked angrily at Remus and Dumbledore.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he barked. "I should have been there."

"This is why we didn't tell you, Padfoot," Remus said, meeting his old friend's ferocious glare evenly. "You weren't in any shape to rush off to Hogwarts. You've only just been cleared to receive visitors, remember?"

Sirius looked furious, but his features softened as he turned to look at Harry again.

"Go on," he said.

"It was... a shock," Harry said. "I was really horrible to everyone, started pushing them away. I broke up with Ginny-" Sirius' eyes sprung wide open "-and told Ron and Hermione I didn't want to be friends with them anymore."

Sirius sat bolt upright in bed and looked as though he were going to get out, when he flushed red.

"Close your eyes for a moment," he muttered. His three visitors obliged. When he said "Okay," they looked again and Sirius was clad in a shirt and pair of trousers. He knelt before Harry, and clasped him by the shoulders.

"Harry, what on earth possessed you to act that way?" Sirius demanded.

Harry winced, unable to avoid Sirius' searching gaze.

"You did," he whispered.

Harry wanted to look anywhere but at Sirius at that moment. He glanced at Dumbledore and Remus. The Headmaster was regarding Harry carefully, his hands clasped gently in his lap. Remus' hands were clasped tightly on the arms of his chair, and a tight frown knitted his eyebrows closely together.

Finally, Harry looked back at Sirius, who was watching him with a look of such unutterable pain on his face that Harry felt almost as though he'd placed his godfather under the Cruciatus curse.

"What do you mean?" It was barely a whisper from Sirius, but it cut Harry to the bone. He looked his godfather in the eye, and forced out the most difficult words he'd ever had to say.

"You were turned," he said. "You, and Remus, and you as well Professor. Everyone I know, even the Weasleys, even Ginny and Hermione and Ron. Voldemort took you all, and he turned you against me," Harry said quietly.

Then it all spilled out. He told them of meeting the Boggart, of seeing his friends hurt and dying, of feeling abandoned, of the horrible feeling of being alone and unable to prevent Voldemort's victory.

He didn't mention Cho. He thought he knew why she hadn't been among the dozens of people that he had feared aligning against him, but now that he was in the same room as them, he didn't want to say to Sirius and Remus that Cedric's death was more important to Cho than the deaths of James and Lily Potter had been to them.

Looking at Sirius' face, Harry felt shame burn hot inside him just at the thought of it. His stomach churned as he looked at his parents' best friend, the man he had just told that he had believed him capable of turning to the side of darkness.

"And that's why you've been pushing people away?" Sirius asked quietly. "You thought we'd choose Voldemort over you?"

He stood, and walked over to his bed, falling onto it with a sigh. He curled over, burying his face in his hands and muttered several words that Harry was glad he couldn't hear.

"I spent twelve years in Azkaban, tormented by Dementors, beaten by the guards, tortured by my own memories..." he drifted into silence and the feeling of shame intensified in Harry's stomach. _How could I think that Sirius would betray me?_

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Sirius said. "I should have been there. Instead of trying to avenge the death of your parents, I should have been looking after you."

Harry blinked. _What?_

"Harry, why do you think people will abandon you?" Remus asked quietly. "Do you really think that decent people like the Weasleys would really abandon you? Do you think that _we_ would?"

He sounded horribly offended by the idea. Harry felt still more ashamed.

"He'd find a way!" Harry said, feeling as though he'd stepped off his broom a hundred feet above the ground. "He could bribe people, or offer them power, or threaten them or their families and they'd take it and join him because it's just me against him and what can I do? What can I offer people against whatever he can do?"

There was silence, and then Dumbledore intervened.

"We should remember, of course, that a Boggart shows us our biggest fears, regardless of how irrational they may be. I am sure that Harry does not seriously believe that Voldemort could convince anyone in this room to join him, nor that Voldemort could convince everyone Harry cares for to abandon him. Nonetheless, that is his greatest fear. Remus, you do not truly fear the moon itself; rather, you fear the changes it causes in you."

Remus and Sirius nodded, and turned again to Harry.

"Harry, you know that Voldemort could never convince us to turn against you, don't you?" Sirius asked.

Harry looked at the two of them, and thought of all that they had lost in the fight against Voldemort. The images of them in his head, with the Dark Mark burning on their arms and their faces obscured behind the Death Eater's hoods, flickered and died. He swallowed hard, and nodded.

Immediately, he felt the hot, snaking sensation of guilt that was twisting in his stomach dissipate and vanish. He smiled, a genuine smile, and felt a warmth wash through him that he hadn't felt in months. As he tried to place the feeling, Remus spoke up again.

"What about your friends, Harry?" he asked. "Do you still think that they would go against you?"

"What choice would they have?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling deeply weary again as the warm feeling disappeared as quickly as it had came. "You're different. You're adults, but they're not. I said it before: Given the choice between taking my side, and taking Voldemort's, why would they choose me? Hero worship of the Boy-Who-Lived seems fine when they're at school, but I can't seriously expect them to choose me when their life depends on it. In the end, they'd probably be well off without me. All I seem to do is bring misery to people and put them in danger. If they hate me, if it seems like I hate them, then they won't be put at risk and I don't have to face them. Everyone wins, right?"

Dumbledore pressed his fingers together, and stared at Harry over the top of them.

"Perhaps," he said. "Why, then, have you insisted on teaching people, and furthering their skills? If we follow your worst case scenario, surely teaching them spells to use in defending themselves and attacking opponents will not help you should you ever have to face them?"

"I can give them a chance," Harry said, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "If I teach them something that they can use to hold off Death Eaters... It's what people expect of the Boy Who Lived, isn't it? I have to be a great leader, saving everyone from the attacks. Teaching them what they can't or won't learn for themselves, learning with them and learning anything that _they_ know that _I_ don't.

"And in the end, when it comes down to me fighting Voldemort, I can't risk being distracted if he pushes Seamus Finnegan in my way, or Orla Quirke, or even Ron or Hermione. I have to know what they know. That way I don't need them, and I know how to beat them"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look loaded with meaning.

"That's a lot to take in, especially in one go," Sirius said at last. "First question: Why do you think you'll have to fight Voldemort?"

"Because..." Harry stopped, stymied.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "It has never been our intention for you to fight Voldemort. Certainly not alone, certainly not at a location of his choosing. If or, hopefully, when Tom Riddle consents to a wizarding duel, I shall of course accept the challenge."

Harry stared at him in surprise, amazed at his own stupidity.

"I..." he managed. Dumbledore smiled understandingly.

"Of course, I imagine that is only natural that you should think otherwise," he said. "It has almost become a catchphrase in recent years, but everything _does_ seem to happen to you. However, when Tom deigns to indulge the Order then it will be I who faces him, Harry. We have taken great pains in recent years to ensure this, and to ensure your safety."

Harry nodded silently. Sirius grinned.

"And to think that I used to admire you for growing up without an ego," he laughed. "Turns out you had your sights set higher than just seeing how many girls you could get off with just by being the Boy Who Lived. The final duel with Voldemort? Merlin's_ beard_ that's arrogant."

Sirius threw back his head and roared with laughter. Harry smiled slightly in spite of himself. He felt his anger and frustration bleeding away, indeed, found it impossible to nurture any spark of negative feeling around Sirius as he watched his godfather laughing and healthy again.

"Your classmates, Harry, have benefited greatly from your efforts these last few months," Dumbledore said. "You have learnt a great deal as well, Harry. And yet it would appear you have forgotten one of the most important lessons that anyone, wizard or Muggle can learn."

As though responding to an unspoken cue, Remus picked up on Dumbledore's line of argument.

"Harry, friendships are vital for a happy life," he said. "On that Halloween night all those years ago, I lost two of my greatest friends when Voldemort killed your parents. The following day, Peter disappeared and Sirius was arrested. In less than twenty-four hours, I lost my four closest friends. Harry, I was devastated. No one should have to experience what I did," he said quietly. "To see you choose the life that I had forced upon me, no, I'm sorry Harry, but I won't let you do that."

It was Sirius' turn to speak.

"You say that you don't bring anything to people's lives? That's dragon's dung, Harry. You made Ginny happy, I could see that. You balance Ron and Hermione, and the three of you are capable of anything when you're together. You're one of the finest Quidditch players I've ever seen, and I know that your Dad would have been proud of you. You're a compassionate human being, kind, honest and loyal, and _both_ of your parents would have been proud of you for that."

Sirius paused as Harry looked up at the ceiling, glaring at it as he furiously blinked back tears. The three older men waited while Harry composed himself.

"But I'm always going to be involved," Harry said. "It's not fair of me to drag people down with me."

"There's that ego again," Sirius growled. "Harry, how many children do Molly and Arthur Weasley have?"

"Seven," Harry replied after a moment's hesitation.

"And how many were conceived while Voldemort was around the first time?" Remus asked, with an air not unlike the one Ron wore when he announced "Checkmate in three!" during a long game of chess.

"All of them, I suppose," Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered. "Although Molly and Arthur were not members of the Order last time around, that hardly made them safe from Voldemort. They would have had to think long and hard about bringing children into such a dangerous time. In the end, they clearly decided that love was the finest antidote to hate. And now they have seven antidotes, if you will."

"I know it must be hard for you to trust people, Harry," Remus said. "I wish I could have been there for you when you were young, but the safest place to be was with your aunt, because the magic that saved your life from Voldemort when you were a baby protected you while you were in her care as well. Unfortunately, she made it clear when I tried to visit you shortly after your parents' death that there was to be no attempt to contact you by anyone in our world. It must seem that you were abandoned," he got up and began to pace back and forth across the hospital wing. "I would have taken you in a heartbeat, but of course I was unsuitable. Once a month I became an uncontrollable beast, and even if I were fully human, the loss of my friends hit me hard, Harry. For a time, I was of no use to anyone, least of all myself or a helpless toddler. You were safest with your family, Harry.

"You can trust people, Harry. You may find it hard to believe, but take it from someone who knows what it feels like to be hated and feared for what I am. When you find acceptance and true friendship, Harry, you should know that it is the most amazing thing in the world. To know that there are people who care for you, and who will always care for you, is intoxicating. That's the sort of relationship you have with your friends, Harry. I don't think they would ever betray you, although it's a decision you have to make for yourself, ultimately."

"You could look at your parents as well," Sirius said, his voice sober and serious. "James always knew that Voldemort was hunting down the Potter family, and that he was the last of them. It didn't stop Lily falling in love with him, didn't stop her trusting him with her life. As for you knowing everything your friends do, and so you don't need them... Harry, your friends aren't just a grab-bag of knowledge. They're feelings ad dreams, emotions and desires and all individual. What they bring to your life isn't just the things they know, Harry. You can't reduce them to that, no matter how easy it makes it to walk away from them, because you know it's not fair and it's not true."

Harry sat, lost in thought, for a very long time. Eventually he said, "I have a responsibility, a responsibility to be the Harry Potter people expect me to be. And that means that I have to keep on teaching people, I have to keep helping everyone. That's difficult enough. I don't have time for friends. I can't do everything!"

"And what if you were to die, Harry?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Well I... What?"

"Supposing you're right. You keep on teaching everyone, you don't get close to anyone. You become this incredible, near-mythical figure. Then one day, despite all your power, all your skill, all your luck, Voldemort, or Wormtail, or even Rookwood or MacNair kills you. Who'll carry on your work then? Who'll be close enough to you to know what you would have done next? All the work you're putting in, spoiled by a Death Eater who got lucky and will dine out for the rest of his life on the story of how he killed famous Harry Potter. Wouldn't that be a pain in the arse?"

Harry looked at Sirius, who laid back against his pillows, staring at his godson unblinkingly.

"I..." Harry said. He looked at Dumbledore and Remus, who were regarding him evenly. Harry's gaze became unfocused as he fell into deep thought once more. Eventually he looked up at the three men once more. Before he could say anything, Remus spoke once more.

"Harry, I want you to be honest with us. It's been six months since Halloween. Six months that you've been pushing all your friends away from you. Now, who was the person you cared about the most on Halloween?"

"Ginny," Harry said immediately. He blushed slightly.

"And who is the person you care about the most today?" Remus asked gently.

This time the reply took a little longer. Eventually, Harry whispered: "Ginny."

"And do you feel any less strongly about her now than six months ago?" Sirius asked, surprisingly quietly.

Harry couldn't trust himself to speak. He simply shook his head.

"Then don't you think that you'd be a lot happier with her than denying your feelings for her?" Sirius said. "It's not a matter of whether or not you'll be hurt, Harry. It'll always hurt when people betray you. But it hurts even more if you betray the people you care about. And that's what you're doing. Think about what we've said, Harry. If you decide we're right, and that you've been completely wrong these last six months, well, you've got a lot of people to talk to for a start."

"That book you got from Fred and George Weasley on your birthday may help," Remus said with a smile.

And, finally, it was enough. The last of Harry's resistance gave way and, for a moment, he was overwhelmed by the flood of emotions he'd walled up and redirected and which now, at last, were able to flow freely. He cupped his face in his hands, and then scraped his fingers back through his hair, a fierce prickling sensation stinging the backs of his eyes.

Dumbledore stood, and after a few seconds, so did Harry. They walked to the door, Harry still lost in thought. Dumbledore unlocked and opened the door, and stepped through. Harry was about to follow him, when he remembered something. He turned, and looked back at his godfather.

"Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius said.

"I'm glad you're feeling better. I missed not having you around."

"I'm glad too," Sirius grinned. "Are you feeling better?" he asked pointedly.

"Uh, yeah, maybe," Harry said. "I think I'll be reading your book when I get back. I think I've got a _lot_ of people to talk to."

"Look on the bright side, it's Sunday tomorrow. You can have a lie in. I forgot to ask, didn't you have a Quidditch match today?"

"Yeah, we were playing Ravenclaw," Harry said. "We lost, but it's okay. It's made me think about a lot of things."

"Glad to hear it, I suppose," Sirius said. "Maybe you'll win next year?"

"Yeah. Maybe you can try and come to some of the matches?" Harry asked. "It'd be fun to have you around."

Sirius regarded his godson carefully. They both knew that it wasn't possible for him to come to a Quidditch match, at least...

"Yeah, I should have thought of that!" he said. "I can come with Remus as his pet dog. It's a date!"

Harry grinned, and for a moment, he looked like a normal sixteen year old boy.

"Great," he said happily. "Well, I'd better get back," he said. "Lots of reading to do."

"Chapter Five," Remus said. "At least, if I remember correctly."

"Seven," Sirius corrected him. "Five's about table manners."

"We had a section on table manners?" Remus asked.

"Not a very long one. We stuck it in because of Cynthia Daniels."

"I remember. Peter's posh girlfriend!"

"Yeah, remember how nervous he was?" Sirius laughed

"And he asked us for advice when he went to visit her and her family," Remus reminisced. "What was it James said?"

"'Start at the outside of the cutlery, and work in,' which was good advice."

"Except Peter started so far on the outside, he took the cutlery off of the people either side of him," Remus laughed.

Harry smiled, and left the two old friends to their memories.

Outside, Dumbledore had Fawkes perched on his arm. "Ready to go, Harry?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Good. We won't have to pass through the cleansing field on our way out, so we can just go from here." Dumbledore double-checked the lock on Sirius' room, and then grasped one of Fawkes' feathers. Harry took another one.

"Gryffindor corridor!"

A few seconds later, Harry was saying goodbye to Dumbledore, and passing through the portrait hole. He walked through the empty common room and up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. By the steady glow of his wand, he was able to find his Invisibility Cloak and his copy of _Practical Lessons: The Marauders' Manual for Life at Hogwarts._

Slipping the cloak over his head, he seized the book and set off for the hospital wing.

* * *

The hospital wing was dark and nearly deserted. Madam Pomfrey was sleeping peacefully in her room, and the wing had only two occupants.

Professor Trelawney slept fitfully in her bed. As Harry watched from beneath the cloak, she twisted and turned, mumbling slightly. To Harry's relief, she didn't seem to be in any obvious pain. He didn't know for how long she'd been under the Cruciatus curse, but she wasn't as young as Harry, and she was obviously taking time to recover.

Looking at Trelawney, shorn of her shawls and outsize glasses, and removed from her room with its footstools and incense, Harry couldn't help but think how normal she was. She had tormented him from almost the moment he first set foot in her classroom and her prophecy had been the source of a lot of misery over the last year, but he didn't feel the intense dislike for her that he once had.

_Life's too short,_ he decided. _I've got more important things to worry about than bearing a grudge against her._

Silently, he wished her a speedy recovery and walked further down the wing. He didn't notice her settling into a more peaceful sleep as he walked away.

Ginny was lying at the end of the room, her fiery red hair standing out starkly against the sterile whiteness of her bedding. Harry noticed a bottle of Skele-Gro on the bedside cabinet beside her, and looked at her chart. The Bludger had shattered Ginny's shoulder and Madam Pomfrey had given her a sleeping draught on top of the Skele-Gro.

Quietly, Harry pulled a chair into position beside Ginny's bed and sat down. He shrugged off the cloak, opened the book, and began to read.

_Chapter Seven: Apologies_

_Before you apologise for something, make sure you mean it. There's nothing more worthless than an unmeant apology. Now, bearing that in mind, how do you convince someone that you really are sorry? Well..._

_To be continued..._

**Frantic:** Yep, Sirius knew the magic words.

**Tsaui****:** I wouldn't say Harry has continually lost. He took down two Death Eaters by himself, and only lost to Dean because he limited himself to sword fighting. But yes, Harry would lose to Voldemort right now, if only because he has a long way to go until he's fully mature.

**James Milamber:** Glad you're enjoying the frustration. Hopefully that will start to fade from this chapter on, although I don't promise to let it go completely.

**Cygnus Crux:** Glad you're enjoying it at this point :-)

**dino-usn****: **Best chapter yet? I enjoyed writing it. I'll have to see if I have anything left to top it with...

**Gryphonmistress****:** People are taking lots of different things from the story, but a unifying emotion seems to be the desire to kick Harry about a bit. Dean got the chance to act out you guys' fantasies. Glad to hear you enjoyed it, and hope you'll enjoy the reconciliations, as they come over time.

**Nick:** Well, it's the other side of the world, so who cares, right? ;-) But seriously, not long for you to wait now. Another two months, and we could be finished here. Oh, and enjoy the States :-)

**Sirius:** Spot on. I always intended for Sirius to be the one to get through to Harry, but I'm gratified to see so many people were thinking along those lines. Nice to know I'm not completely out of touch, however far I may push Harry from his friends.

**Eric2:** While it's not always a valid defence, Harry was doing what he thought was right, and while he hurt a select few people, he helped a great many others. As he's coming to realise, though, he can combine the old with the new, and it might just give him strength when he most needs it...


	32. Chapter Thirty One: How To Apologise

**_Chapter Thirty-One: How To Apologise_**

_Apologies to Long Term Friends who you've Really Hacked Off_

_Wormtail__ suggests: Be honest, be sincere, and tell the truth. If you're in the wrong, admit it. Stand by for your actions: If you've messed up, then have the decency to admit it. Your friends will find it a lot easier to forgive you if you're prepared to admit that you were at fault._

Harry awoke feeling incredibly stiff all over. Bright sunlight shone in his eyes and birds sang in the trees outside the window behind Ginny's bed. Ginny herself was still sleeping, although she had rolled onto her right side, taking the weight off her wounded shoulder.

Behind him, Harry heard the doors to the hospital wing open. He quickly shoved the Invisibility Cloak and _Marauder's Manual_ into his bag, and stood nervously, eager to leave before Ginny awoke.

Unfortunately or otherwise, the new arrivals in the hospital wing were Ron and Hermione, bearing several heavy looking textbooks before them.

The three of them stood by Ginny's bed, looking uncomfortably at each other. Hermione chewed nervously on her bottom lip. Ron looked at the floor for long periods between looking up briefly.

Eventually, Harry said: "I'm sorry."

Hermione looked at him. "Sorry for what?" she asked quietly.

"For being a git these last six months," Harry clarified. "I was wrong. I was scared. I thought, well, I thought I had to make you stop being my friends. I thought I couldn't trust you, thought I couldn't care for you. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry, the surprise evident on their faces. They were having understandable trouble in taking in what Harry was saying.

"You're sorry?" Hermione said at last. "You admit you've been wrong all this time?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I swear I'll prove it. I'll do-"

He was interrupted by Hermione pouncing on him, and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh Harry," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's good to have you back. We missed you so much. We forgive you."

Harry could feel his own tears welling up, so affected was he by Hermione's display of emotion.

Then Ron cleared his throat.

"Er, _we_ forgive Harry?" he said, arms crossed across his chest. "Don't I get a say in this?"

Hermione wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly.

"No," she said. "Of course you don't. Ron, be honest, you've been missing Harry as much as I have."

"Yeah, okay," Ron relented, with a deep sigh. "Look, if Hermione's prepared to forgive you, Harry, I guess I am, too, 'cos you hurt her a hell of a lot more than you ever hurt me." He paused. "But I'm not happy about what you did to Ginny. I know you have to deal with a lot of stuff, and _I_ can cut you some slack, and that's fine. But you can't keep _doing _this sort of thing, Harry. You can't just say that you're sorry if you're going to keep on hurting people. Especially not Ginny."

Harry hung his head.

"I know. I've been a git, I know that. I'll find a way to prove I'm genuine. I had a big shock when I fought that Boggart. It really confused me. I didn't know what to think for a long time. I didn't know who I could trust. I didn't know if I could risk being with anyone. In the end, I just decided it was better to push people away.

"I saw Sirius and Remus last night. They talked some sense into me," he admitted. "They made me see that, even when times are bad, _especially_ when times are bad, I should rely on the people I care for, not push them away."

"Idiot," Ron said, not unkindly. "That's what been making you act like a prat for the last six months?"

"I was..." Harry looked at the two of them, and his gaze fell to the floor. "I was scared that if people I cared for joined Voldemort, then he'd send them after me. I didn't want to have to fight people I cared for."

Harry paused.

"I didn't want to care for people I might have to fight."

Hermione gulped, and Ron looked halfway torn between anger and sympathy.

"You-Know-Who couldn't turn us," Ron said carefully. "I suppose he could use the Imperius curse on us, but that's really hard to keep going all the time. You can only really do it one person at a time, anyway, or else how do you think we managed to beat him last time? You don't need to worry about him turning us against you, Harry. It'd take too much effort, and his attacks so far have been more about maximum impact for minimum effort then the other way around."

Hermione grinned. "You're spending too much time with Dedalus Diggle," she said.

Ron broke into a grin of his own. "It's true, though. Look, Harry, I know that Voldemort hates you, but he hasn't made a move for you in nearly a year. It seems like he's got other things on his mind right now."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. He smiled slightly. "I guess I really need to start thinking more, don't I?"

"It might help," Hermione smiled. "Friends?" she said, offering Harry her hand. He took it and clasped it tightly.

"Of course," he said. He looked up at Ron.

Ron hesitated, and then laid his hand on top of Harry's and Hermione's.

"Someone has to keep you two balanced," he said, although he didn't meet Harry's eyes.

Harry smiled slightly, remembering Sirius' words the night before.

"Will you stay?" Hermione asked, when they had released hands. "We're still researching Morgan Le Fay, and another reader won't go amiss. I'm sure Ginny will want to talk to you, and thank you."

Harry glanced at Ginny, still lying asleep in her bed. She grunted slightly as she rolled onto her healing shoulder.

"I'll be back," he said after a long pause. "I don't know how I'm going to begin apologising to Ginny. I have other people I want to see first."

"Well, Madam Pomfrey says Ginny can leave this afternoon," Hermione said. "Will you be around at all today?"

"Yeah, I will," Harry said. "Don't know when, though. I'm not sure how long I'll be with the other people. Listen, will you do me a favour?" he said as a new thought occurred to him. "Don't tell Ginny, okay? I don't want it to seem like you're apologising for me."

Ron looked unhappy with this, but nodded. "Only until tonight, though. You've got to apologise to her, and if she weren't lying there asleep, I'd thump you for not going to her first."

Harry nodded. "Don't worry. I've been avoiding Ginny long enough. I promise that we'll talk tonight."

* * *

_Apologies to Close Acquaintances you've had a Fight with_

_Padfoot suggests: If it's another bloke, just say that things got out of hand. The best thing to do is make a bit of a joke of it. Challenge him to a rematch sometime. If it got really out of hand, and someone was going to get hurt, it might be an idea to go beyond the apology to say that you're sorry. Do them a favour, help them with work, fix them up with that girl they've had their eye on or something. Lads, on the whole, are pretty forgiving._

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from his Potions essay and nodded to Harry.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Harry asked. Dean gestured for him to take a seat.

"I'm sorry about last night," Harry said.

Dean looked at him curiously.

"It got out of hand," Harry said. "I lost my temper with you. I was confused after the Quidditch match yesterday, and it just seemed like everything you said was designed to wind me up more and more. Eventually I just lost control. Yesterday," he said, "was not a good day for me."

Dean set down his quill carefully, making sure not to spill any inkblots on the parchment.

"The last six months haven't been very good for you, Harry. At least not the way I see it."

"You're right," Harry said. "I know I've been acting like the world's biggest idiot - and then some - but I want to make up for it. I've already apologised to Ron and Hermione. I wanted to say sorry to you, because you could have been really badly hurt yesterday."

Dean grinned. "You're not _that_ good with a sword," he said.

Harry didn't return the grin. "There were a couple of times, when we were fighting, that I came really close to hexing you. Ever since I started doing magic again, well, it seems a lot stronger. I could really have hurt you."

"Harry, you _didn't_ hex me," Dean said. "That's the important thing. Can I be honest with you about something?"

"Of course," Harry said.

"Promise not to hex me?" Dean said, his eyes twinkling.

Harry drew his wand and handed it do Dean.

"Okay," Dean said, setting the wand off to one side. "If we're being honest about thoughts we've had, I fancied Ginny."

Harry rocked back in his seat, momentarily speechless.

"I don't, not anymore, not really," Dean said. "I was trying to help her get over you, just being a friend to her. It just sort of happened that I fell for her. I didn't do anything though, so it doesn't count for anything. Ginny's a great girl, Harry. I started having feelings for her without even noticing."

Harry nodded slowly. "You're right. You didn't do anything wrong. I can't exactly blame you for fancying her, can I?"

Dean grinned self-consciously. "Yeah, I guess not. Anyway, nothing happened, like I said. I've spent my time since Christmas trying to get the two of you back together. We're just friends."

"She's lucky to have a friend like you," Harry said. "Me too," he added, extending his hand.

Dean shook it without a moment's hesitation. Unfortunately, in doing so, the sleeve of his robes caught his bottle of ink and sent it splashing over his parchment.

"Bloody hell," Dean barked, jumping up to avoid the wave of ink spreading across the table.

"_Scourgify__!_" Harry yelled, grabbing his wand and aiming it at the ink flood. The ink vanished, but Dean's parchment was completely blue-black. Dean let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Two hours that took," he said, sitting back down and pulling a fresh roll of parchment from his bag with marked reluctance. "I mean, it was total rubbish, but at least I would have handed it in on time."

"Do you want a hand?" Harry asked.

Dean looked at him. "You sure?"

"Yeah. This is the one on the use of Gillyweed, right?"

"Yeah."

"Right, well, I finished that on Thursday night. I'll just grab my copy of it, and we'll get yours done in no time."

"I don't need to copy yours," Dean said quickly.

"I wouldn't let you," Harry said. "I'd have Hermione's voice in my head the whole time having a go at me. But you can at least have a look at what books I used, right?"

Sure," Dean said gratefully. "Thanks, Harry."

"What are friends for, right?"

* * *

_Getting Girls to Like You after you've Really Wound Them Up_

_Moony suggests: This won't work on girlfriends. This is just for those colleagues of the fairer sex who have no interest in you other than in a strictly platonic sense. Friends, in other words. Or, at least, they would be friends if you hadn't managed to annoy them. So, how to make amends?_

_Well, a good start is, as always, just admitting that you were wrong. General apologies will go down better than you might think, although they're often met at first with stony blankness. Don't be deterred. Women are strange creatures, and they're often a lot softer on the inside then you might think._

_Once you've laid the groundwork, it's time to move in for the kill. You don't have to be grandly eloquent, nor publicly demonstrative. In the experience of your authors, however, you do have to be right. And we mean absolutely spot on. If you don't know what you're apologising for, you may as well forget it. If in doubt, ask mutual friends about why she's mad with you. Only in the most extreme circumstances should you just hope for the best in this situation. Oh, and it should go without saying by now, but really, and we mean _REALLY_ mean what you're saying._

Harry sat in the Quidditch stands, watching Cho and the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team messing around on their brooms, clearly still in a celebratory mood after their victory the day before.

While he sat, he wondered exactly what he had to apologise for. He'd stood his ground for his beliefs. Although those beliefs had subsequently proven to be mistaken, he didn't feel that Cho had any right to be mad at him.

_Maybe she'll just be grateful I've seen the error of my ways?_ Harry thought hopefully.

As the Ravenclaw team began to descend to the ground, Harry made his way down the stand to pitchside. He waved to Cho as she brought her Nimbus 2001 down to land.

"Harry," she said guardedly.

"Cho," he said, trying a friendly smile. It met with no response. "Dean Thomas said to say hello. I didn't know you two were friends."

"It appears that there's quite a bit you don't know about friendships, Harry," Cho said.

Harry's shoulders sagged. "I suppose I deserved that," he said. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"What for?" she asked, glaring at him and hefting her broomstick in a manner that had Harry's Defence Against the Dark Arts-honed combat reflexes screaming at him to defend himself.

Harry sighed.

"For being a git. For ignoring you when you tried to help me. For rejecting every good, sensible bit of advice you tried to give me. For being an idiot, and too dumb to realise that a seventh-year Ravenclaw would know more than a sixth year Gryffindor."

Cho glared at him, and then walked off. Harry vaulted the barrier between the spectators' area and the pitch, and chased after her.

"What?" he said as she headed towards the players' tunnel, peeling off her pads as she went.

He was met by silence and the sight of her disappearing into the changing rooms. He scowled, and leant against the wall, waiting for her to come back out.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she re-emerged with Su Li and Lisa Turpin. Cho's team-mates looked at him curiously as he moved to block their path.

"Cho, I'm sorry, okay?"

"You don't even know what you're apologising for," Cho said flatly, pushing past him and leaving him to scratch his head as the three girls made their way back to the castle.

* * *

Over lunch, Harry tried to catch Cho's attention. Hermione refused to give him any tips on what he might be missing out - "How will you _learn?_" - and Ron just sniggered at Harry's increasingly bewildered expression. Harry was only grateful that Ginny was staying in the hospital wing until that afternoon. He didn't want her first sighting of him to be chasing after Cho Chang and trying to get back in her good books.

As soon as the last remains of Cho's roast lamb disappeared from her plate, she stood up and started making her way towards the doors. Harry jumped up, leaving half his food untouched and hurried after her.

"I'm sorry for making you chase after me all this time," Harry said as soon as he got within earshot.

The look Cho shot him would have made a lesser man run away. Harry just stood frozen as Cho left without a word.

* * *

He found her in the library, thirty minutes later. He waved absently to Lockhart and Professor Skeeter as they pored over a huge old book, and then dropped into a chair opposite Cho.

"I'm trying to work," she said, frowning at her Arithmancy work.

"19th of October, 47, Romeo and Juliet, Red Rum, the _Daily Prophet_, and Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, glancing at her question sheet.

"_What?_" she looked up.

"The answers to your homework," he said, grinning.

"Really?" she asked, frantically checking the sheet and scrabbling through her notes.

"Probably not, but at least you're talking to me," Harry said. "Look, I've said I'm sorry, what more do you want?"

Cho glared at him. "I'd like you to sod off, quit bothering me, and work out exactly what it is you're meant to be apologising for," she said.

Harry took the hint and left her alone.

* * *

An hour later, Harry thought he knew why Cho wouldn't accept his apology. He'd looked over Moony's advice again, and thought he knew where he'd been going wrong.

He found Cho sitting under an elm tree in the grounds. Tucking the Marauders' Map back into his pocket, he approached carefully, making sure she could see him long before he got within talking distance.

She didn't say anything or move away, so he took a seat next to her.

"I'm sorry for pushing my friends away. I'm sorry for making it seem like I didn't learn anything from Cedric's death, like it didn't mean anything to me how he died without a chance to say anything to anyone. I'm sorry for making my friends feel terrible, and for making myself feel terrible as well. I shouldn't have done it, and I've learnt my mistake."

Cho smiled faintly. "I knew that you Gryffindors couldn't be as thick as you always seem."

* * *

Later, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was showing Ron how to perform the Bubblehead charm, something that Ron had never quite got the hang of. There was still a little tension between the two of them, but both were working hard not to show it. Hermione privately suspected that Ron would be fine as soon as things were settled between Harry and Ginny.

Hermione was working on one of the most obscure texts on Morgan Le Fay. It detailed her early life, and Hermione felt that it was worth reading in case it showed her having any affinity to a place in early life that might have led her to select it as the site of her final resting place.

"Hermione," Harry said, as Ron blundered around the common room with a four-foot bubble on top of his shoulders. "I just wanted to say thank you for working on Le Fay even when, well..."

"Don't be silly, Harry," Hermione smiled. "Of course I was going to keep on working on it. Besides, now all those Dark wizards have been taken away, Gilderoy needs all the help he can get. I know that Professor Skeeter is helping, but-"

"But I don't reckon those two are getting much work done," Ron said, popping the bubble with his wand. "_Gilderoy,_" he muttered, too quietly for Hermione to hear.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"You mean you don't know? Blimey, Harry, this is what happens when you dump all your mates," Ron said with a laugh that only sounded slightly forced. "Hey Seamus, get over here and tell Harry what you saw when you were looking for that copy of _Quidditch Through The Ages_."

Seamus jumped to his feet, a broad grin on his face as he left his conversation with Parvati and Lavender to join them.

"Harry, you didn't hear yet? I went after that book nearly a month back."

"I've been busy," Harry objected. "What happened?"

"Well, I was the only one in the library, 'cept for Madam Pince. I went for a wander down the Sport and Recreation aisle, and who should I stumble across but Lockhart and Professor Skeeter, snogging and generally getting it on in a way that older people really shouldn't do where someone can see them. Anyway, I legged it out of there before they could see me."

"And, of course, it's entirely their own business," Hermione said, without looking up. "I think it's sweet that they like each other. I don't imagine that Professor Skeeter has had many chances for relationships, and Gilderoy deserves a second chance at happiness."

"Agreed," Seamus said. "And I have no problem with them liking each other. I just didn't need to see it with me own eyes."

Harry and Ron laughed while Hermione shook her head.

And then the buzz of conversation and laughter died as suddenly as though a Silencing charm has been cast upon the common room. Harry looked around wildly, half expecting a Death Eater or Voldemort himself to have Apparated into the room.

In the time it took Harry to remember that Apparation onto the Hogwarts grounds was impossible - _Hermione finally managed to drill it home_, he thought absently - he realised that there was no enemy threat in the room.

In that short period of time, plus the time it took him to realise that Ginny Weasley had just come through the portrait hole, the common room emptied of students, and the slamming of the door to the boys' dormitories was the only sound to be heard.

_Apologising to the Girl who you've Dumped by Mistake and now really want to Forgive You_

_Prongs suggests: Beats me. If you work it out, let us know, and we'll stick it in here. Good luck!_

Harry had been both anticipating and dreading this moment since reading the complete lack of advice that his father had put down in the _Marauders' Manual_ twenty years before.

"Hi Ginny," he said carefully.

Ginny stared at him impassively. "Hello Harry," she replied. "I suppose that you apologised to everyone. Ron and Hermione seemed very cheerful this morning when I woke up, and considering we lost the match yesterday, it must have taken a lot to put Ron in a good mood."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I apologised. I don't think Ron cares about the Cup, you know. He's happy because you're safe."

She ignored him. "So you're back?" she asked, moving across the common room and dropping her bag on one of the couches. She stood by the fire, staring at the flames, not looking at him.

"I am," he said.

She nodded, and turned to leave, collecting her bag and heading for the girls' dormitories.

"Ginny, wait!" Harry said.

She turned around. Harry's stomach twisted as she stood before him, silhouetted against the firelight.

_Just like the first time I kissed her. She's so beautiful..._

"I haven't apologised to you yet," he said, stepping forward.

"I noticed," Ginny said coldly, folding her arms across her chest and turning away from him.

"I just wanted to say that I was sorry," he said. "For everything. I've been a complete sod to you, and I ignored everyone who tried to put me right. I've been stubborn and arrogant, I've hurt you and humiliated you, and I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry for it all."

Ginny's fiery hair hung over her face as she bowed her head. It seemed to flicker in the firelight, and Harry fought the urge to reach out and run his fingers through it. He didn't think that Ginny would welcome the movement.

"It's been horrible without you around," she said quietly. "It took me months to stop waking up every morning and thinking that you'd be waiting down here for me. Every time I thought I was making progress, every time I thought I was getting over you, I seemed to get knocked backwards. When I heard that you'd kissed Cho at the Hogmanay Ball, I just felt numb. On top of everything else, I just felt so horrible that I couldn't cope.

"I tried to keep myself busy. I tried to teach Dean the Patronus charm, like you did with me. I wrote huge letters to my family, and I always seemed to end up talking about you. I practised Quidditch for hours, but it was like I was flying against your ghost.

"It would have been a lot easier if I could have believed you were a complete git, Harry, but I couldn't. You were giving up all your free time to teach anyone who wanted help, regardless of what House they were in. You turned losing your ability to cast spells into an incentive to work harder. You-" Ginny choked and Harry, who had been looking in shame at the floor, looked at her face. Tears were streaming down her face.

"You saved Pigwidgeon when he would have fallen to his death, and no one else even noticed, but I did, Harry. Everything you do, I notice. Everywhere you go, I notice. I don't know if it's because of this bond Dumbledore says we share, or because of how I feel about you, but it's there. I tried to get over you. I tried not to care for you. I tried so very hard to hate you for what you did to me.

"And I couldn't," Ginny sobbed. "I couldn't hate you. I couldn't change the way I feel about you. And now you come back, and you say you're sorry, and I don't know what to think, Harry. You hurt me like no one else could ever manage, and I can't hate you, and I hate you because of that."

With a slam of the door, Ginny was gone, and Harry was left all alone in the common room.

_To be continued..._

**Cygnus Crux:** Denial is a wonderful thing, and so are alternate universes :-)

**Frantic:** Here's the tear-jerker. Were you moved?

**Gryphonmistress****:** My muse would abandon me forever if I tried feeding it celery :-)

**Daily Prophet Reporting:** Along with the confession-to-Cho scene and an upcoming scene between Ron and Harry, the discussion between Sirius and Harry was written in my head almost from day one of me starting work on this story. It changed little, although the addition of Remus and Dumbledore allowed for a little extra scope. As for pulling the rug again, well, maybe not, but if yo think of Harry as Bambi on ice, he'll have enough trouble staying on his feet without me being so cruel to him...

**dino-usn****:** Sigh I definitely messed up having that duel in the middle of the story. It's really raised expectations for the rest of the story... Hope the climactic face-off between Harry and Voldemort in chapters 35 & 36 is a fitting conclusion.

**Silver Warrior: **Pride ditched, grovelling done, but now Harry has to prove himself all over again...

**Eric2:** I'll try and make it worth your patience :-)


	33. Chapter Thirty Two: Life, Or Something L...

**_Chapter Thirty-Two: Life, Or Something Like It_**

"Harry?"

"Hi Hagrid. I wanted to-"

"Save it, Harry," Hagrid said with a whiskery grin. "Yeh thought yeh was doing what was right, an' that's what's important. We all make mistakes, from time ter time. If you're prepared to admit it, an' learn from it, well, yer'll do alright."

"Cheers Hagrid," Harry said, grinning.

"Now, what'd yeh think of class today?" Hagrid asked, his beetle-black eyes shining brightly.

"It was really, well, really _dangerous_, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Yeah," Hagrid grinned. "Ain't it great? Tha's the best thing about teaching you older kids. Ye're able to handle some of the more interestin' specimens."

Hagrid beamed with paternal pride as Ron, Blaise Zabini and Seamus succeeded in backing the last of the giant Arborantulas into a corner. Harry had taken advantage of the confusion to speak to Hagrid. The giant spiders, of whom Hagrid had somehow managed to obtain six adult specimens, were strongly reminiscent of Aragog and his family of Acromantulas who lived in the Forbidden Forest. This species was incapable of speech, however, and preferred to live in the highest reaches of the tropical rainforests of South America. Harry, Ron and Hermione had exchanged similar, somewhat exasperated glances on hearing this. It was just like Hagrid to obtain illegally imported animals, especially if they fit his definition of "Interestin' critters".

The last spider snapped menacingly at Blaise, catching the Slytherin's robes in its pincers and ripping them in two. Harry gasped in astonishment as Ron, seeing his friend in trouble, leapt onto the Arborantula's back. Ron's solid frame knocked the giant spider to the floor with a loud snapping of its pincers. There was a burst of applause from those students who'd had enough of the Arborantulas and were huddled behind Hagrid's hut. Seamus and Blaise quickly bound the spider's legs, and Hagrid scooped it up and deposited it in a roomy crate, slamming the lid and bolting it with a loud snap that yielded relieved sighs from the class.

"Right," Hagrid beamed. "Five points to everyone who 'elped pack the little beggars away. Ten points ter Ron, 'cos I know 'e don't like spiders an' that was a brave thing ter do."

The bell rang, and Hagrid yelled "Alright, calm down," over the clamour of the hungry students. "Homework is two foot on Arborantulas and other giant spiders. Anyone who can tell me where the nearest colony is gets ten extra points."

"Brilliant!" Ron said, as they headed back to the Great Hall for lunch. "That'll be the easiest essay ever. And ten bonus points on top of it, too," he grinned. "I'm actually starting to like spiders."

* * *

They were halfway through lunch before Harry remembered that he'd meant to ask Hagrid about the giants. He'd heard nothing new about them since the autumn, and was wondering if they'd been sighted. Professor Grubbly-Plank hadn't taken any of the Magical Creatures lessons that Harry had been in, so it seemed as though Hagrid hadn't had to miss any classes.

Harry's desire to leave the Gryffindor table intensified when Ginny arrived with Colin Creevey from their Defence Against the Darks Arts class. Colin was darting around Ginny, brandishing his wand like a sword. Ginny was humouring her friend, but Harry could tell that she would rather he left her alone. He felt a surge of angry jealousy that Ginny was choosing to spend time with Colin rather than him. He wanted to go over to the two of them and lead Ginny away, but he hadn't spoken to her since the Sunday night. Whenever he saw her, she was doing something else.

Sometimes Harry felt as though he was being watched, but whenever he looked around, he didn't see anyone watching him. Sometimes Ginny was nearby, sometimes she wasn't. Harry had a vague feeling that the bond between himself and Ginny was related to the feeling, but he didn't know enough about it to say for sure. It was another thing he wanted to talk to Ginny about.

He looked up suddenly, certain that someone was watching him. He was already looking in Ginny's direction, but she seemed quite uninterested in him. Looking past her, he saw Draco Malfoy regarding him with a slight frown on his face. Seeing Harry look at him, Draco nodded coolly, before turning to listen to Luna, who was reading from _The Quibbler_.

Finishing his flan, Harry got up and walked to the staff table where Hagrid was deep in conversation with Professor Skeeter.

"Hagrid?" Harry said quietly. "Sorry, I don't want to interrupt."

"Quite alright, Potter," Skeeter said, standing gracefully. "I should be in the library, anyway. I promised Mr. Lockhart that I would help him with his put down some rat traps. He says that they'll destroy the books if left to breed and, well, he's not exactly brilliant at pest control spells."

"Okay," Harry said, grinning as he thought of Cornish pixies. "Thanks."

"What can I do for yeh, Harry?" Hagrid asked, a small grin on his face as he watched Skeeter striding away. He chuckled, before turning his gaze fully onto Harry.

"Err, I was wondering if you'd heard anything more about the giants," Harry whispered, after making sure no one was in earshot.

"Oh, right, right," Hagrid said, looking a little surprised. "I think we should go fer a walk, yeah?"

Hagrid led Harry out of the castle and down towards greenhouse four.

"They're in Switzerland," Hagrid said. "Nice and easy to get to. I've been nipping over there mos' weekends. I stay a coupla days and come back. Gets a bit tirin' after a while, but Dumbledore can' really send anyone else. 'Course, Olympe can get to Switzerland an' back in two shakes o' a Skrewt's tail, so she's bin seeing quite a bit of them."

"And how's it going?" Harry asked.

"Not bad," Hagrid judged. "We take 'em plenty of gifts. Say lots of nice things about 'em, and hope like crazy that they don't get ratty with us. I mean, there's not much that the two of us can do against a pack of mountain giants."

"Are they talking to Voldemort's people as well?"

"If they are, they're doin' a good job of hiding it," Hagrid said. "We're dropping in at all odd times, so I figure we oughta run into them Death Eaters if they were showin' up. I dunno, maybe You Know Who ain't interested in the giants. There aren't but a coupla dozen of 'em left."

"You think he's after other races? The centaurs or something?" Harry asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him," Hagrid said. "But the centaurs wouldn' help him. They still remember him killin' those unicorns here, and they don't lower 'emselves to deal with men, not if they can help it."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad it's you going to talk to the giants, Hagrid," he said. "I don't reckon I'd want to."

"They're not bad folks," Hagrid said. "Jus' a bit different to you an' me, that's all."

Harry looked at Hagrid, and realised for the first time exactly why Dumbledore trusted Hagrid so much. Unlike someone like Lucius Malfoy, who would victimise people who were different, Hagrid always looked for ways in which people and creatures were the same. Hagrid, Harry suspected, saw even the most vicious of beasts as something that just needed a little care and attention.

_I'm not sure if Hagrid's completely insane or the nicest person I know._

* * *

During Defence Against the Dark Arts the following Monday, Harry got a chance for his rematch against Dean. Professor Skeeter, who was reading a surprisingly small treatise on the life, works and times of Morgan Le Fay, paired them against each other for a sparring session. It was clear that she was a little exasperated at having been caught up in the research.

"Still, I suppose it will help hurt You Know Who," she said. "That's what I want to do," she added, grinning in a manner that Harry found slightly unsettling. "Just one chance..."

She seemed to come to, looking at Harry and the others in slight surprise at their being there. Then she grinned again.

"Feel free to kill one another," she said to Harry and Dean. "If you can avoid destroying the furniture this time though, I'm sure that Mr. Filch would be grateful."

She nodded to the two of them regally, and then added in a mischievous undertone "I understand that you put on quite the show last Saturday night. I hope that you're equal to the task today?"

She strode off, taking a seat where she could watch the whole class.

"Well, go on then," she said.

"_Gladius!_" two dozen voices yelled.

* * *

Harry and Dean faced one another over the points of their swords, chests heaving and their faces glowing from exertion.

The entire Defence Against the Dark Arts class had stopped to watch the fight. Skeeter, normally a hard taskmaster, was watching along with her pupils. Harry and Dean were prowling around the Great Hall, their duel already having taken them between the flashing swords of number of their classmates. Harry had narrowly escaped decapitation by Draco, while Seamus had barely escaped cutting off Dean's arm. Eventually, Skeeter had ordered the class to stand back and watch as Dean and Harry increased the tempo of their fight still further. Betting between the spectators flourished as quickly as Dean and Harry's strikes and parries. The general consensus was that Harry, his powers fully restored and his wand shining conspicuously brightly in the centre of his sword, would eventually defeat Dean. Only Ron, Hermione and Draco thought that Dean would come out on top.

"Harry won't use magic," Hermione said as Dean forced Harry backward with a flurry of quick strikes. "He's not used to having it available to him, not yet."

"Nah, Harry won't use magic 'cos it'd be cheating," Ron said toying absently with his own sword. "They've been going at it for the best part of twenty minutes. It'd be a bit daft to use magic now."

"He's too proud," Draco said. "Well, they both are. But Harry could end this fight in a heartbeat and there's nothing that Thomas could do about it."

"That'd be the Slytherin way of doing things," Ron said half-heartedly. At some point during the year, he had stopped suspecting Malfoy of being up to something, but he was still a little weary around the former Slytherin.

"The Ravenclaw way, actually," Draco said as Harry reversed the momentum with a swift counter. "The Slytherin way would be to hex your opponent while they cast their Gladius. Which would also work," he added mildly.

Ron snorted, and grinned.

"Anyway, Thomas has superior form," Draco said. "Class will always tell, eventually."

"You're probably right," Ron said, surprising himself slightly with how simple it felt to agree with Malfoy.

"Of course I'm right," Draco grinned, his eyes glinting as Harry and Dean's swords clashed loudly. "I'm in Ravenclaw, aren't I?"

"Why did you get sorted again?" Hermione asked, watching her friends battling furiously. "Couldn't you have stayed in Slytherin and tried to convince Goyle and the others that they shouldn't join Voldemort?"

Draco shuddered at Hermione's casual mention of the dark wizard's name. He shrugged. "Not everyone will listen to reason as readily as your house-elves, Granger," he said. "I transferred out of Slytherin to show my change of heart, yes, but also to ensure that I wouldn't get a knife through that heart while I slept. My current roommates may be messy, prone to snoring and they even engage in the occasional fight, its true, but to my knowledge none of their parents are Death Eaters and they have not been coached in the art of nocturnal murder."

This time it was Hermione who shuddered.

The bell rang for the end of the class, and for a brief moment Dean and Harry looked as though they would end their duel. Then they started again, grinning as they tore into one another with a new ferocity.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open and a huge mass of students and teachers pressed in. They stopped short at the sight of Harry and Dean locked in what appeared to be mortal combat, their robes billowing dramatically around them as they pivoted, thrust and parried.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor Snape snarled, pushing his way to the front of the crowd and glaring furiously at Harry and Dean. The two faltered in mid-strike. "An impromptu meeting of the Dueling Club, perhaps?" Snape sneered sardonically. "You may consider yourselves both placed on-"

"Detention!"

Pupils and staff members alike jumped as Professor Skeeter yelled at Snape.

"This entire class has been acting disgracefully!" she bawled at him, her face an inch away from his. Skeeter was as tall as Snape, and she was carrying a long sword which was protruding in a menacing fashion from her hand.

"I have given them all lunchtime detention, Professor Snape, and I'll thank you not to intrude!"

"And your detentions involve your pupils fighting each other, I suppose?" Snape snapped, almost, but not quite, managing to appear unperturbed by Skeeter's invasive approach.

"Well spotted," Skeeter sneered. "Potter and Thomas were the ringleaders of the anarchic rabble, so I have ordered them to duel to the death."

"To the death?" Snape said, seemingly shocked. He recovered his composure with commendable aplomb. "I must applaud you on your remarkable approach to discipline. While I suspect that the Headmaster will prevent an actual killing, I would be content with a grievous wounding."

Skeeter smiled a smile that showed most of her teeth and no hint of amusement. "They will do their best to provide," she said, before turning to Dean and Harry and motioning for them to continue.

They needed no second encouragement. The growing crowd seemed to spur them on, and with Snape scowling at them like a vindictive gargoyle, they seemed determined to put on a show. Many of those watching, especially the younger students, gasped as they attacked with wild abandon, throwing caution to the wind. Dean especially was showing off, his long familiarity with swordfighting allowing him to use fancier moves than Harry, who was more workmanlike but at the same time seemed more determined. Word had circulated around the school that the two had faced off in a private duel that had almost demolished the Great Hall, and now the entire school was being treated to a rematch.

The betting ring expanded quickly to encompass most of the school. Much stock was placed in Harry's magical abilities, and in his desire to show that Dean beating him in their previous encounter had been a fluke. The bets flew thick and fast as the two duelists rained blows down upon one another.

Professor Dumbledore arrived, took one look at the fight, and muttered an incantation that brought the house tables, fully laden, back into the centre of the room from where they had been standing by the walls. Dean and Harry barely missed a step, mounting the bench beside the Gryffindor table and dancing back and forth along it, adding the challenge of balancing on the bench to the task of defending themselves against each other. However, with the entire school watching, and memories of their three nights of detention in the kitchens fresh in their minds, they refrained from climbing up onto the table and destroying the place settings, as they had done a week or so before.

Instead they advanced sure-footed on one another, blades shining in the bright spring sunshine that poured through the windows high above them. Harry flicked out at Dean, who blocked easily. He returned the strike, forcing Harry to jump back. He landed awkwardly, crying out in surprise as he stumbled off the bench and crashed to the ground.

For a second, Dean was torn. Then he looked up and into the crowd, smiled slightly, and got down from the bench. His sword disappeared with a hiss of steam, and he reached out to Harry, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet.

The two friends grinned at each other, and then shook hands to a round of applause from the watching crowd. Snape glared at them, and then turned to Skeeter.

"I though you said that this was a duel to the death?" he inquired, humourlessly.

"I changed my mind," she said, turning to face the deluge of students eager to find out the date of the next Dueling Club meeting.

* * *

April turned into May as the trees and flowers in the grounds of Hogwarts burst into full bloom. Ron arranged some desultory Quidditch practises, mainly as a way of saying good bye to Katie. Although upset that she had missed out on the Quidditch Cup in her final year, Katie took it in good heart and vowed to follow Angelina into the professional Quidditch ranks.

"Besides, Gryffindor won two cups while I was here," she grinned late one Sunday afternoon as the Quidditch team packed up after practise.

Of more serious note were the upcoming exams. Ron and Hermione had been revising since before the Easter break, while Harry had been revising almost since coming out of his coma six months before. The other Gryffindors were less well organised, however. The fifth and seventh years, including Katie, Colin and Ginny, were preparing for critical exams, and while Harry, Ron and Hermione were grateful for the grace period that sixth years were allowed between OWLs and NEWTs, they watched Katie and the other NEWT students with a feeling of growing trepidation.

The sixth years would be sitting their SKREWTs - Somewhat Kind-of Rather Evil Wizarding Tests - which acted as indications of how they would do in the NEWTs the following year. Anyone who got less than an 'Average' on a SKREWT would have to re-sit the exam during the summer. If they failed that, they would have to drop the subject. Harry was calm, Ron blasé and Hermione anxious about the idea.

Hermione drilled the two boys endlessly with SKREWT papers from previous years ("Practise exams to prepare us for practise exams which'll just make us worry about the _real_ exams. No thanks," as Ron put it.) In the end, Ron and Harry mutinied, and threatened to throw Hermione's revision timetable into the fire unless she lightened up a little. She agreed to them taking their Thursday afternoon off from study, provided they didn't do anything too strenuous. After Hermione vetoed everything from "We could go and see Hagrid," and "We could go and sit by the lake," upwards as "Too strenuous," Harry and Ron consented, with bad grace, to spending the afternoon reading about Morgan Le Fay.

And on top of this, Ginny still hadn't said a word to Harry since his attempt at apologising weeks before.

Hermione had told him not to worry, that Ginny needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened. Harry had tried to be patient, but he was beginning to worry that Ginny would never speak to him again.

_I'm being selfish,_ he told himself, shoving away a dusty five-hundred year old book on Arthurian legends and picking up one that was six-hundred years old and even dustier to replace it. _It's not fair of me to expect her to drop everything just because I'm ready for her to._

He scowled at Ron and Hermione, who were having an obviously enjoyable verbal sparring session. Harry bit his tongue, not eager to alienate his friends so soon after winning them back.

He looked up at the portrait hole a second before it swung open, admitting Ginny and Dean. They were obviously having a serious conversation, for Ginny wore a scowl that would have made Harry steer very clear of her. But Dean persisted in his side of the conversation, to the point that Ginny said something short but unmistakably harsh. She walked away, leaving Dean looking very hurt. Harry abandoned his research and walked over to him.

"You okay, Dean?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Water off a duck's back, right?"

Harry could tell that it wasn't water off a duck's back, that Dean had been badly hurt by whatever Ginny had said.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth," Harry said. "Ginny's not-"

"-herself," Dean finished for him. "Yeah, I know. It's not fair, though," he added.

"What isn't?"

"Well, just as you pull your head out of your rear end, Ginny..." Dean tailed off, seemingly suddenly realising what he was about to say. Harry grinned.

"She's got a right to be angry with me," Harry said diplomatically. "It's not fair of her to take it out on other people, but she's got a furious temper on her. I should know," he added with a rueful grin.

Dean blinked in surprise.

"Harry, she's not angry with you," he said slowly.

"Of course she is," Harry said.

"Not really," Dean said. "She's upset and confused, not angry. She needs time."

"She can take all the time she wants," Harry said.

"You mean..." Dean began, looking nervous.

"I mean I'm not going anywhere," Harry said quietly. "I'll wait for as long as it takes, as long as she needs. I made the mistake of giving up on her once before. I won't do it again."

* * *

Ginny had arrived in her room ready to scream at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, her roommate Beth had been curled up in bed with a headache. Ginny had to settle for a small groan as she realised that her bag, with all of her work, was still down in the common room where she'd left it when Dean had grabbed her and dragged her off for a walk.

_Another walk where he told me how good it'd be for Harry and me to get back together. Thanks, Dean. I'll make up my own mind about that. Who I date is _my_ business, not anyone else's._

She walked back downstairs, ready to go back to her room if there was the slightest sign of Dean - _or Harry -_ waiting for her in the common room.

She opened the door at the foot of the stairs a few inches, and peered around the edge to see if Harry or Dean were still there.

They were, and they were talking to one another.

_Probably about me,_ Ginny thought fiercely, suddenly furious at them both. _Is Harry too scared to talk to me himself? Has he been getting Dean to sound me out?_

Even as she thought it, Ginny knew that it was unlikely.

_Harry's not a coward. Stupid, misguided, insensitive and a royal pain in the arse, but he's not a coward._

Still furious, but also somewhat curious, Ginny strained to hear what Harry and Dean were saying.

_Dean thinks I'm not angry with Harry? What does _he _know? _She thought angrily.

_A lot,_ she admitted as Dean expanded on his reasoning. _That's not fair. I need to keep Harry away from me until I can work out what I feel for him now. If Dean tells him everything that we ever talked about, Harry can just say what I _want_ him to say, and I'll never know if he means it or not._

But Dean didn't say any more, didn't reveal what he and Ginny had discussed at length several times since Halloween. Instead, Harry simply said that he was prepared to wait for her, as long as it took.

_That's only fair,_ Ginny thought with a feeble flare of anger._ I've been waiting for him all this time..._

It was a traitorous thought, at odds with the image that Ginny tried to project to the world and to herself. But it was true, she had to admit.

_I never got over Harry. I _have_ been waiting for him all this time. I can't hate him. And now he's leaving the next step up to me._

_What do I do?_

Confused, with her homework completely driven from her mind, Ginny walked slowly back up the stairs to her dormitory.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat unmovingly behind the defence table. His lawyer harangued and harassed, objected and retracted. It was a masterful performance and Lucius had felt at times as though he should have been applauding. Certainly the lawyer did not believe a single thing he had said.

_Why should he? _Lucius thought idly, as the lawyer brutalised Mad-Eye Moody on cross-examination. _The man's been a Death Eater longer than I have._

For all of the man's vigorous performance, however, Lucius knew that the key to victory did not lie in his legal abilities. Neither did it lie in whether the Ministry could prove Lucius guilty of leading the attack on Hogsmeade a year before.

Lucius looked up at the rows of Ministry witches and wizards arrayed in the semi-circular amphitheatre above him. He wondered briefly who among them had been bribed by the Death Eaters, but knew that it wasn't important.

_Everyone has their price, after all,_ Lucius thought, careful to keep any trace of amusement from his face as Moody limped furiously from the stand, his evidence against Malfoy thoroughly discredited. Briefly, Lucius wondered whether he would have been as well off in choosing not to hand over tens of thousands of Galleons in bribes, but one look at the front row of the gallery was enough to convince him otherwise.

The front row had been dubbed the Untouchables in Lucius' mind. They were people who, for whatever reason, would not accept the money that Lucius' allies would offer. People like Fudge, for example, who almost made up for in morals and integrity what he lacked in intelligence and courage. Arthur and Percy Weasley were others. Too poor to even dream of the sort of money Lucius could afford to spend on a new set of robes, they were also blinded by their unfailing loyalty to Dumbledore.

_Amelia Bones... _Lucius paused and smiled a private, internal smile. _What is it now, Amelia? Thirty years? Thirty-five? A long time, certainly. You have lost your looks, but none of your passion, it seems. And you expected something afterwards. Silly girl, now a stupid woman. _

Lucius looked along the row. He sincerely hoped that the Dark Lord would listen to him on his release. It had been a long, lonely year, but it had given him a lot of time to plan. And his greatest plan would see the removal of the Untouchables. They would sow further chaos amidst the ranks of the already fragmenting Ministry, and there would be nothing simpler than for someone - _Me, perhaps? - _new to be installed as the new Minister of Magic.

The defence rested. Fudge stood, and called for a vote. Malfoy projected a degree of worry onto his face as his eyes floated over the crowd. One or two people looked directly at him, coolly acknowledging some link to him, although whether that was his gold resting in their pocket, or their belief that they would play a part in his sentencing to life in Azkaban he didn't know.

The hands rose up. The Untouchables and maybe a third of the rest of the court voted for his imprisonment. Then Fudge called for a show of hands for those in favour of Lucius' acquittal. More hands rose, some quickly, some uncertainly. Malfoy's heart skipped a beat.

It was close.

But...

"You're a free man," his lawyer whispered. "Congratulations."

"I never doubted it," Lucius said, rising and nodding austerely to the court. Turning, he presented his manacled wrists to a guard, and the cuffs were unlocked. He rubbed his wrists, scowling at the worn skin that the manacles had left behind.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go," Fudge announced. "Malfoy Manor will be reopened for you and your accounts will be unfrozen," he added.

"And my wand, Fudge?" Lucius replied, glaring at the Minister with a loathing he now didn't try and conceal.

"Your wand will be returned to you tomorrow morning," Fudge replied, earning himself a small amount of respect in Lucius' eyes for holding his gaze without quailing.

"I look forward to it," Lucius said, so quietly that no one else could hear. "I have some big plans to start work on."

_To be continued..._

**Sherbert79:** Glad you've caught up with the rest of us... For now, Ginny is determined to take things slowly with Harry. We'll see over time how that works for her.

**Gryphonmistress****:** One 'l' in groveling, according to Word. And I figure my house burning down would put a crimp in my writing, too...

**dino-usn****:** For now, it's assumed that Harry's boost in power is a temporary thing that'll wear out over time. We'll have to see whether or not that's correct as the story continues.

**Aggiebell****:** Glad to have you back with us :-) Harry and Ginny have a long road to travel before things can begin to get back to normal.

**James Milamber:** Harry will be getting quite the slapping in chapters 35 and 36. Stay tuned!

**Frantic:** I have a lot of experience...

**tramp3834:** Not long to go now 'til the final chapter. Hope you stick with us :-)

**Eric2:** Ginny's not the castration type. Two brick is more her style...

**Silver Warrior: **In this case, Harry knew that groveling would have been useless. An instant apology could never have been forthcoming given the circumstances, and so Harry knows that he has to prove that he's learned his lesson to Ginny.

**guy**** incognito:** I, too, have seen a lot of stories where Harry forsakes his friend, but I tried at least to give him a different motivation this time. As for him being quick to dismiss his worries, well, they were irrational fears that he'd been questioning almost since the day he abandoned his friends.

Dean never really made a play for Ginny. He had feelings, but he - mostly - kept them to himself because he knew full well that she still cared for Harry. As for Dean bating Harry, he did so for the right reasons and achieved the desired result - Harry admitted that he still cared for Ginny, which created a crack that Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus were able to exploit.

Thanks to everyone - especially guy incognito - for taking the time to review. We're nearly at the end of the story, but there's still a little way to go yet :-)


	34. Chapter Thirty Three: The Secret Of Morg...

**_Chapter Thirty-Three: The Secret Of Morgan Le Fay_******

****

There were nine days until exams began. It was Saturday morning and Hermione had dragged Harry and Ron down to the library to begin her patented last-minute, super-revision schedule. This basically consisted, in Ron's opinion, of reading every book in the library three times. But he'd long since given up complaining, reasoning that a summer free of worry about resitting his SKREWTs and instead concentrating on learning to Apparate so that he could visit Hermione was worth the hassle.

The three friends arrived at the library before it even officially opened, with Hermione only allowing them fifteen minutes for breakfast. Ron was still eating a slice of toast as they trooped through the door. Lockhart waved to them from where he was kneeling by one of the stacks, a baited mousetrap in one hand and his wand in the other.

"Hullo, you three," he said, beaming wearily at them as he stood up. "Good to see you, as always. Working hard, I imagine? I'm still trying to catch that blasted rat that's been running around here. Every time I think I have him cornered, he blasts off in some unexpected direction. He's frightfully intelligent."

"Do you need a hand?" Ron asked. "I used to have a rat. I might be able to help."

"Very kind, Mr. Weasley," Lockhart said. "I won't be interrupting your studying? I know that your exams start next week."

"No, not at all," Ron grinned, carefully avoiding Hermione's baleful glare. "I wouldn't want to risk all these useful books," he added, picking up a copy of _101 Ways to Grow Your Nails The Way You Want_ and waving it to show the sort of useful books the library contained. "Hey, Lavender had this out last week," he added, glancing at the list of people who'd borrowed the book. "And two months ago. And December. And _four times_ last year... Blimey."

Ron and Lockhart moved off along the aisles, each bearing a load of baited boxes that would trap the rat without harming it.

"Ron seems to be getting on okay with Lockhart," Harry said to Hermione.

"He's really warmed up to him since he found out that he's seeing Professor Skeeter," Hermione said, with a long-suffering sigh. "He thinks that Lockhart deserves a bit of respect for daring to go out with someone who's so good at stabbing people with a sword."

Harry laughed, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll only encourage him," she objected. Harry forced himself to stop laughing, and instead directed an amused grin at his Potions notes.

After ten minutes, Hermione slammed her folder shut.

"I can't do it," she sighed. "It's too nice a day. Nothing's going in."

"I'm not surprised," Harry said, looking up from his notes on the Draught of Deadly Fatal Death Poisonous Elixir of Mortality. "Hermione, you know it all. I mean," he said hurriedly, realising that it had sounded like he had called her a know-it-all. "I mean, you know all of this already. You can't learn it all over again. It's not possible."

"But what if I don't know it when it comes up in the exam?"

"Hermione," Harry said. "You've reached the point where you know the entire syllabus. It's a week before the exams. I know it's pointless to say don't worry, but can you do something else? It's eight in the morning, for Merlin's sake. You need to find a way of unwinding or you'll drive me and Ron mad by the end of the day."

"Well..." Hermione looked unhappily at her carefully ordered revision, and Harry knew that giving up an entire day's work was a concept almost completely alien to her. "I suppose I could carry on with Gilderoy's work on Le Fay's temple?" she said cautiously. She was looking at her work as though it might burst into flames if she didn't focus her concentration on it.

"Only you could relax by doing more work, Hermione," Harry shook his head. "Go on, then. I'm sure he'll be grateful for the help."

Hermione got up eagerly and, as Harry focused on the Utterly Lethal Lotion, she selected the biggest, heaviest looking work on Morgan Le Fay from the pile. She sat down, and was soon lost in the book. A few minutes later, Professor Skeeter arrived in the library, yawning and running her hands through her long, untidy hair. She nodded sleepily to Harry, picked up a book on Le Fay without looking, and almost sat on Hermione before realising that she was there.

"Sorry Granger," she yawned. "It's far too early in the morning for it to be this early in the morning. Can you imagine if You Know Who showed up right now? Fat lot of use I'd be."

Harry grinned. Over the course of the school year Professor Skeeter had been established as being notoriously bad at waking early. It usually took her until at least the second class of the day to be fully awake, and her reputation as a hard taskmaster didn't fair well among those she taught before morning break.

The library was almost quiet for the next ten minutes, the tranquillity only disturbed by the murmuring of Ron and Lockhart as they discussed the best places to set their traps.

The door opened again, and this time it was Draco who came in, that morning's _Daily Prophet_ open in front of him and a worried look on his face.

"Harry," he said uncomfortably. "I thought you might be here." He handed Harry the _Prophet_.

"I thought you might be interested in the lead article," he added.

Harry turned to the front page and looked unhappily at Lucius Malfoy's smiling face. The older Malfoy stood behind a podium, smiling in a way that Harry considered to be overly sinister. A smaller photo, captioned as having been taken earlier that morning, showed Malfoy receiving his wand from Mad-Eye Moody. Lucius glowered at the rough silver handle of the wand, the reshaping of which had been Sirius' handwork. Harry wondered briefly what Sirius would do for a wand now that Lucius' wand had been taken away.

_Maybe Ollivander is a member of the Order. Aren't he and Dumbledore old friends or something?_

Harry set the paper aside and looked up at Draco.

"How did he get off?"

"The official story is that the Ministry accepted his claim that he was placed under the Imperius curse."

"And the unofficial story?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly very weary.

"If I know my father, then he almost certainly bribed the court."

Harry looked up at Draco. "It's been quiet these last few weeks. Do you think he has something planned?"

"Knowing my father?" Draco snorted. "He'll see a year's captivity as a way of elevating himself in You Know Who's eyes. He'll have spent the year dreaming up new ways of winning power for himself. You Know Who will listen to him, and the chances are that one of Father's plans will capture his attention."

"Another attack on Hogsmeade?" Harry asked. Repairing the physical damage from the battle the year before had been a matter of a few days' work. Repairing the mental damage would be an ongoing process and another attack on the wizarding community could damage it beyond repair.

"Possible, but unlikely. Father has never enjoyed reviewing his failures. I would imagine he has some ploy to attack those members of the High Court who voted against him."

Harry looked at the blonde Ravenclaw. "You need to tell Dumbledore or someone what you suspect."

"My next stop," Draco said soberly. "I thought that I should warn you first, though. Father will certainly want to get revenge on you, and the Dark Lord will be happy to assist him in any way he can."

"Thanks M- _Draco_," Harry said. "I appreciate it."

"I have a lot to pay you back for," Draco said. "Five years of hating one another all seem rather pointless once you think that You Know Who is out there and ready to kill us."

Harry nodded, and Draco left, holding the door open for Ginny as he went out. Ginny stomped in, clearly in a bad mood, slamming a towering pile of books onto the table between Harry and Hermione.

"What's up?" Harry asked mildly, putting out a hand to stop the tower crashing to the floor.

"Bloody Snape is what's up," she snapped at him. "I have to go through all of these books and summarise all the 'flu cures in them. There must be dozens," she added with a groan.

"What'd you do to deserve that?" Harry asked, picking up the first book and glancing at it. He looked up, and then straight back down. _This is Moste Potente Potions_, he thought._ There's no 'flu cures in here._

Harry looked at the other books. He recognised most of them, and was willing to bet that Hermione would know the others. He was also willing to bet that there wasn't a single cure for the 'flu in any of them.

"Harry? Are you listening to me?"

Harry looked up from the books, suddenly aware that he had been ignoring Ginny during the closest thing they'd had to a real conversation in months.

"Sorry. I think I can help you with this, if you want."

Ginny looked at him dubiously, obviously torn between accepting his help and being stuck with doing Snape's punishment on her own.

"What did you do to get punished, anyway?" Harry asked again, looking intently at her this time.

_I used to like those eyes,_ Ginny thought._ I'm not sure I do now it feels like they can see right through me._

"He caught me skiving off History of Magic," Ginny admitted, grimacing.

"You got caught?" Harry asked, leaning back and making Ginny feel less as though she were stuck in a spotlight.

"Not everyone has an Invisibility Cloak, okay?" Ginny objected.

Harry's eyes sparkled. "Where did he catch you?"

Ginny glared back at him before muttering. "Outside Professor Flitwick's classroom."

"What were you doing there?" Harry asked curiously. _Doesn't she have History of Magic at the same time I have Charms? And she was outside my classroom? No, must just be a coincidence... She must have been waiting to see Ron. Or Hermione._

_I was waiting for a chance to see you. I'm so pathetic. I _deserved_ to get caught. Get lost and stop looking at me!_

Harry looked at Ginny curiously, and then shrugged. Turning away, he picked up one of the books and started paging through it.

"Mmph," he grunted after a few minutes.

"What is it?"

"I was right. Hermione, can we have a word?"

Hermione reluctantly put her book down, and joined them.

"That book's really interesting, Harry. All about Le Fay's early childhood."

"Fascinating," Harry said, in a way that made Ginny grin. "Do you recognise those books?"

"Yes," she said, glancing at the two books Harry had pointed out. "They're on the recommended reading list for seventh years."

"Really?" Harry looked a little startled and Ginny got the impression that he wasn't looking forward to reading them. "Well, do either of them say anything about 'flu cures?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "I've only read through them once, though. I might be wrong."

"Do you remember telling me once that if we're set an impossible assignment, we don't have to do it?" Harry asked.

"Yes?" Hermione replied.

"Ginny's been given an impossible punishment. Does she have to do it?"

"Well, no, I suppose not," Hermione said. "Why is it impossible?"

"He's said I have to look up 'flu cures in these books," Ginny said, pointing at the large pile on the desk in front of them.

"And there aren't any cures in these books," Harry added triumphantly. "Ginny doesn't have to do it."

"Oh Harry, are you sure?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Absolutely," Harry said, and Ginny could almost feel the certainty radiating off of him.

"Well, in that case you wouldn't have to do the punishment," Hermione said. "But we should check these anyway," she added, glancing at the books.

"Ginny and I can do it," Harry said. "You get back to Morgan Le Fay, as it's so interesting."

"If you're sure?" Hermione said.

"Absolutely," Ginny said, suddenly very sure that she wanted more time alone with Harry.

Hermione went back to her book. Harry and Ginny sat down and began working quietly through the tower of books. They sat quite companionably together in silence, only interrupted by a crash from the stacks and a loud swear word in Ron's voice.

"Good thing Madam Pince isn't here yet," Harry commented.

Ten more minutes passed and Ron staggered out of the stacks, looking exhausted. Professor Skeeter was gone from her seat in an instant, and Ron flopped into her place. Harry and Ginny shared a wry grin as they watched her disappearing down an aisle towards Lockhart

"Do you have any idea how big this place is?" Ron asked. "I swear some of the aisles go on for ever. And Lockhart's mad about catching that rat, I tell you."

"We could lend him Crookshanks. He's a clever cat. I know he'd catch this rat in no time." Hermione suggested.

Ginny giggled.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I was just thinking that if Crookshanks got loose in the library then it would be a catastrophe," Ginny replied with an impish grin."

"And Lockhart would be catatonic again," Harry added absently.

Hermione looked appalled. Ron smirked and hopped off his chair, collecting more rattraps and heading back into the aisles. A few moments later, Skeeter re-emerged from the stacks looking a little flustered. She glared at Harry and Ginny, who were grinning idiotically at their books, and sat down next to Hermione.

Silence reigned in the library for about three minutes.

"There!"

There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, like someone diving to the ground. This was followed by a crashing sound as wood splintered, and a more prolonged, papery crashing that could only be large numbers of books crashing to the ground.

Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Skeeter looked around in mild curiosity, knowing already what they would see.

A grey rat scuttled out from the cloud of dust that was drifting out of one of the aisles and disappeared under a shelving unit. Harry watched for a few seconds, wondering if it would come out again, but it seemed to be settled in. Something about the rat seemed familiar, but Harry shook his head.

_There's lots of rats__ in the world,_ he thought.__

"Umm, a little help? Please?" Lockhart's voice came from the damaged aisle. Everyone got up and trooped dutifully to the aisle, peering through the dust to see what damage Lockhart and Ron's over-enthusiastic rat hunt had wrought on Madam Pince's careful filing system.

"Oh, Madam Pince is going to kill you," Ginny said, looking down at the sight before them.

Ron and Lockhart lay on the floor, buried under dozens of old, dusty books. They almost looked like ghosts, except for Ron's bright red hair and Lockhart's fiery red robes shining through the thick layer of dust that covered them.

"Would someone please help us up?" Ron said plaintively. "This bloody hurts, you know."

Harry leant forward and shifted some of the books from his friend's back, allowing Ron to pull himself free. Ginny and Skeeter freed Lockhart while Hermione tried to work out exactly how much damage they had done.

"Ron, I think you're in very deep trouble," she said.

"No, it was all my fault," Lockhart said. "I won't hear a word of Mr. Weasley taking the blame for any of this."

"Thanks," Ron said, wincing as he worked his shoulder gingerly. He pulled at the collar of his robes, revealing a grimoire-shaped bruise across his shoulder blade.

"You're lucky that didn't snap your spine," Hermione said.

"Thanks for the sympathy," Ron grimaced.

"I'm _serious_, Ron," Hermione said. "You should know better than that. You have to be more careful."

"She's right," Professor Skeeter said. "Gilderoy, what were you _thinking_?" she said, probing the older wizard's shoulders for injuries.

"It would appear that I was thinking about that rat," Lockhart said, flashing his most brilliant smile at Skeeter, who ignored it.

"Well, it serves you right," she said. "You're lucky it's not more serious, both of you. Think before you act next ti-"

She was interrupted by Ron running down the aisle and leaping bodily over the table, crashing to the ground with a meaty thump.

"Aaagh! No, missed him again. Ow," he added. "He's right under that shelf, though."

Lockhart struggled free from Skeeter's ministries and snatched up a rattrap, following Ron's pointing finger.

"I give up," Skeeter said, picking her way through the fallen books and back down the aisle. She took a seat by the pile of books on Morgan Le Fay, threw a look of frustration at Lockhart and went back to her research.

"Me too," Hermione said, following Skeeter's lead right down to the baleful glare, although hers was directed at Ron rather than Lockhart.

This left Harry and Ginny alone in the aisle, with everyone else's attention focused away from them. They glanced at one another, suddenly aware at the same moment that the aisle was forcing a physical proximity between them that they hadn't shared in more than six months.

"Um," Ginny said. _This is weird. But nice as well._

"Yeah," Harry replied._ I want to kiss her._

"We should get back to work," Ginny said hurriedly. _I mustn't kiss him!_

"You're right," Harry said reluctantly._ I can't force it. If it happens, it happens. It's not my place to make the first move._

"So, we should, you know, go back and work," Ginny said, not moving. _After you._

"After you," Harry said, gesturing for her to go ahead. _Make the first move!_

Ginny turned, biting her lip to stop herself from screaming as she led Harry down the aisle towards the others.

Suddenly, Hermione screamed and Ron yelled out.

"I've found it!"

"Scabbers!"

Harry and Ginny dashed down the aisle.

"Harry, I've found where Le Fay put her temple. Oh Harry, it's-"

"Shut up!" Harry yelled.

But it was too late.

Ron had been holding a squealing, struggling rat in his hands, and this time he didn't need a layer of dust to look like a ghost. All the blood had drained from his face. He had been yelling something about binding when the rat stopped struggling and Ron was thrown backwards as the rat-

Changed.

One second there had been a grey rat in Ron's hands. The next an adult wizard was diving through the air, a flash of silver preceding him as he reached out for Hermione. He crashed into her and sent her flying backwards. There was a moment of confusion, and then Peter Pettigrew was dragging Hermione to her feet, his silver hand clasped around her throat and a knife pointing at her heart.

"Where is it, girl?" he spat. "Tell me, or I'll kill you."

Everyone in the room stood frozen in their places. Ron groaned from the midst of the fragments of wood that had been a solid table until he had crash-landed on top of it, but otherwise there was no sound.

"Tell me," Pettigrew snapped, his voice rough and cracked. He looked like a desperate man, and Harry wondered how Voldemort treated Pettigrew. Was this Pettigrew's last mission, his last chance to prove himself?

"Tell me or so help me I'll kill you," Pettigrew hissed.

"No," Hermione said, her voice trembling. "If I tell you, you'll tell V-Voldemort."

"Yes," Pettigrew said, his grip on Hermione's throat tightening. "That's exactly what I'll do. Or, I'll kill you, I'll kill everyone in this room - BELIEVE ME, I can do it," he roared, making Hermione wince. "I'll kill you all, and then I'll take the book you were just reading back to him and he'll know."

"Tell him, Hermione," Harry said quietly.

"Yes, tell me, Hermione," Pettigrew mimicked in Hermione's ear. "And stop squirming."

"You've changed a lot, Wormtail," Harry said. "The last time I saw you, you were groveling at Voldemort's feet and he was torturing you."

"Lord Voldemort thought you might still be haunting his dreams, Harry," Pettigrew sneered. "He's found a way to block you lately, did you notice that? He's growing stronger, and soon no one will be able to stand against him. Of course, that day'd come a lot sooner if girly here would just tell me what she knows."

Pettigrew shook Hermione by her throat, making her gasp and the knifepoint slice across the material of her robes.

"So your master gets stronger and you grow a spine, is that it?"

"No, Harry," Pettigrew said. "You shouldn't believe everything Remus and Sirius tell you. I may not have had the talent to keep up with James and Sirius, but I was a Gryffindor through and through. I was always brave, I just wasn't stupid."

"That's not what you said that night in the Shrieking Shack," Harry snarled.

A shadow crossed Wormtail's face, and for a second Harry saw the weak wizard that he knew was the real Peter Pettigrew.

"You don't understand. I don't have a choice," Pettigrew muttered. "I never wanted... I don't want..."

"Let her go," Harry said. "Let her go and we can protect you, Peter."

For a second, Harry thought that he had done it, that Peter would release Hermione. For a second, Wormtail's eyes glazed over and he seemed lost in a reverie of being free of Voldemort. Then he frowned and choked Hermione still tighter. She was starting to go blue.

"No, only he can protect me," Pettigrew said. "TELL ME!"

"Tell him, Hermione," Harry yelled, feeling frustrated and scared.

Hermione choked something out, too faintly for anyone to Wormtail to hear. The Death Eater's face lit up, and he laughed. "Of course. Where else?"

"LET HER GO!"

"Naturally, she's no use to me anymore," Wormtail sneered. And so saying, he shoved Hermione away from him and into Harry and Ginny, sending the three of them crashing to the floor.

With a pop of imploding air, Wormtail transformed back into a rat and scuttled quickly across the library floor before Skeeter or Lockhart could stop him. Harry scrambled frantically to his feet and dashed after him, but by the time he had reached the library door, there was no sign of Wormtail. The former Marauder would know his way around Hogwarts as well as anyone, Harry mused ruefully.

He went back into the library where Lockhart was helping a stunned Ron onto a chair and Ginny and Professor Skeeter were tending to a pal Hermione.

"He got away," Harry said superfluously. "We need to go and see Dumbledore."

Lockhart and Skeeter nodded, and helped Ron and Hermione to their feet. Harry and Ginny helped guide their injured friends through the still-deserted corridors and to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's study.

"Babble Brain Bubble Gum," Harry said dully. He led the others up the revolving stairs to Dumbledore's office and rapped on the door.

"Come in," came Dumbledore's deep, reassuring voice from within.

Harry opened the door to reveal Dumbledore and Draco.

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have an emergency."

"So I see," Dumbledore said, standing and conjuring sofas for Ron and Hermione to rest on. "What happened?"

"We were in the library. Hermione said she'd found out where the temple is. Before anyone could react, Wormtail appeared and grabbed her. He made her tell him where it is and now he'll tell Voldemort."

"Ingenious," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Who better to spy on us than Peter Pettigrew? And yet not one of us suspected... Miss Granger, can you speak?"

Hermione croaked something, and then shook her head. Dumbledore waved his wand at her throat, and then turned and waved it over Ron.

"You will both feel fine in a few minutes, now, until then-"

"I brought the book Hermione was reading," Ginny said. "I kept the page and everything."

"Well done, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore beamed. He took the heavy book from her and laid it open on his desk. Harry, Draco, Ginny and Lockhart crowded around while Skeeter tended to Ron and Hermione.

"Ah, there it is," Dumbledore said. "So much trouble over such a very few words."

Harry leaned closer, peering at the writing.

"_And Morgana bought the land that would come to be known as the Hollow of Godric so she would forever have someplace to rest,_" he read aloud. "The Hollow of Godric? Godric's Hollow? Where my parents lived?" he said, incredulously.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "I am afraid that it is time for you to go home."

_To be continued..._

**Aggiebell****:** My Draco will be put to the test in the next chapter as he comes face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy himself...

**Silver Warrior:** Fun though it'd be to get rid of Malfoy so easily, I love the character far too much. He'll be around for the next little while yet. Still, _someone's_ gonna die in this story. Guess who?

**Gryphonmistress****:** Harry and Ginny's complicated love life took yet another turn in this story, but they're not resolved just yet. What will it take? Hmmm....

**Eric2:** Actually, I have a feeling that Lucius' best plan might be quite the killer...

**Frantic:** Voldemort doesn't mind if his lieutenants fail him, so long as they stay loyal (think of the Lestranges and Barty Crouch). Lucius was smart enough to keep his mouth shut in the interrogations, and Voldemort rewards his loyal followers.

As for the bond... Is it a cause of Harry and Ginny's feelings, or is it caused by it... Hmmm. Look closely and you might see evidence of it in this chapter :-)


	35. Chapter Thirty Four: Home Again, Natural...

**_Chapter Thirty-Four: Home Again, Naturally_**

It was Draco who spoke first.

"Forgive my ignorance, but what in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

Harry blinked, remembering that the Ravenclaw boy didn't know anything about the yearlong search that had been going on in the library.

"You know Morgan Le Fay, right?"

"Of course," Draco said, looking a little offended.

"Right. They reckon that when she died, she set things up so that her magic would be stored in her tomb - the Temple of Le Fay - and if a wizard could get that magic-"

"-he'd be invincible. I see," Draco said. "Well, I suppose it's up to us to stop him?"

"Myself and Professor Skeeter will summon assistance when we arrive in Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore said, rising up from where he had been leaning over a now fully recovered Ron and Hermione. "I won't ask anyone else to accompany us."

"Nonsense, Albus," Lockhart said at once. "I am here because the Order believed in me. I won't be found wanting in its hour of need," he added, although the tremble in his voice revealed his uncertainty. Dumbledore nodded once, acknowledging how much effort it had taken for Lockhart to volunteer for the mission. Beside him, Professor Skeeter beamed.

"You don't have to ask, sir," Harry said, firmly. "We're all going with you."

"Naturally," Dumbledore said, sighing slightly. "I thought I should give you the option of not risking your lives for once. It is rare that you are given a choice in the matter, after all."

"If Voldemort finds the Temple, then I'll be the first one he'll come for. And the best form of defence is attack, after all."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "However, I want you to remember what I said to you at St. Mungo's, Harry. It is not your responsibility to fight Voldemort, it is mine. If you see him, I want you to run, do you understand me?"

"I don't want to fight him," Harry said. "If I see him, I'll run or hide."

"Good," Dumbledore said. He looked around the others. "Shall I save myself the bother of asking and simply assume that you will wish to come with us?" he asked Ron, Ginny and Hermione.

They nodded. Ginny had her jaw set in a way that reminded Harry of Fred and George when they were set on doing something that a normal person wouldn't dream of doing.

"You can include me as well," Draco said.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore enquired.

"Wherever Voldemort goes, my father goes. And I know my father," Draco said. "I can help," he added, his eyes gleaming.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "In that case..." He tapped the tabletop with his wand and produced a silver bracelet. "Mr. Malfoy, if you are in danger, touch the bracelet and say 'Hogwarts'. You will be returned to the staff room here."

Draco clasped the bracelet to his wrist. It glowed briefly, and then grew dull again.

"I'd like a word with Harry alone," Dumbledore said. "Maureen, please show everyone into the next room."

Professor Skeeter nodded and led the others into the Order's briefing room, which had appeared at Dumbledore's words.

Dumbledore waited until the door was shut before turning to Harry with a grave expression on his face. He tapped the tabletop with his wand once more, this time conjuring one of the gold coins that the Order carried. He held it up between his fingers, and for a second appeared lost in its gleaming luster.

"Do you know why I did not give one of these coins to young Mister Malfoy, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry stared at the coin for a moment.

"In case he betrays us?" he asked. "He could use it to bring Order members into a trap."

"Ah!" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Alastor will be glad to hear that you're beginning to take after him. No, while I admit that there is a possibility that Draco Malfoy will betray us - there is also the possibility that you or I will betray us, of course - I am far more concerned about the possibility of him falling under his father's influence once more. Lucius Malfoy is drawn to power like a moth drawn to a flame. I have no doubt that if the Temple of Le Fay is in Godric's Hollow, then Lucius Malfoy will be there as well. Draco will need watching carefully. So will you, Harry."

"Me? Why?"

"Because in Godric's Hollow there is a very good chance that you will meet your parents."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found that nothing he could say seemed equal to Dumbledore's casual announcement.

"Harry, you share a link with Voldemort, as you do with Miss Weasley and any number of others. Voldemort can manipulate that link in a way that no other can. As close as you will be to him, he may be able to make you hallucinate, he may be able to completely disorient you. If you detect any hint of this, you _must_ let us know, for Voldemort may, in all likelihood, be capable of using your deepest fears and greatest desires against you. Be _careful_, Harry."

Harry nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. Although he had hardly been looking forward to facing Voldemort, the idea of the Dark wizard using his thoughts against him - _the way he used Ginny's thoughts against her -_ turned his stomach and made him glad that Hermione had rushed them through breakfast. Harry had eaten barely half a bowl of cereal, but even that was threatening to leave him violently.

Dumbledore held up the gold coin.

"You said once that you weren't prepared to put other people at risk by taking this coin. May I ask if you have changed your mind?"

Harry nodded, and took the coin with trembling fingers.

"I think I'm going to need all the help I can get," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

* * *

They gathered around Fawkes in the Order's room. Dumbledore had transfigured their robes into Muggle clothing, and arranged for Moody and Diggle to meet them on the outskirts of the village. Harry felt increasingly queasy as he reached out and took one of Fawke's tail feathers. Hermione looked a little offended. Harry thought he knew why. It turned out that _Hogwarts; A History_ wasn't as comprehensive as she might have liked.

"A phoenix can get through the anti-Apparation wards that exist around Hogwarts," Dumbledore had told them. "As can house-elves. Only those who are good can touch a phoenix, of course, as it will burn those with evil in their hearts."

Perhaps it had been Harry's imagination, but Dumbledore had seemed to glance at Draco as he said this. Certainly Draco had been deeply reluctant to reach out and touch Fawkes' plumage.

"Just a finger will do, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said. "If we intend to travel like this more often, then I shall have to see about obtaining more phoenixes."

"I thought there was only one phoenix at a time?" Ron said, surprised.

"Yes, a very common belief that," Dumbledore said. "Now, are we all ready?"

There was a chorus of uneasy assent. Dumbledore nodded.

"Very well. Fawkes? We must go to Godric's Hollow, please."

Fawkes trilled beautifully, and Harry felt a warmth blossom in his chest once more. His queasiness subsided, and he felt more prepared than he had done moments before. Looking around, he could see a more relaxed group, except for Draco who looked uncomfortable. Harry was about to ask what the matter was, when Fawkes' magic ignited and they were surrounded by a swirling vortex of light. Harry heard Ginny gasp beside him, and he was tempted to join her. The swirling colours were even more beautiful then they had been during his first trip by phoenix a few weeks before. He wanted to ask so many questions, but he knew that it wasn't the right time. Catching Hermione's eye across the circle, he knew that she was bursting with questions and barely restraining herself as well.

To Harry, the trip to Godric's Hollow seemed to barely have started when the swirling began to slow, and then fade.

_Either Godric's Hollow isn't very far from Hogwarts or I'm more scared then I thought I was._

As though in response, he felt someone taking his hand in theirs and giving it an encouraging squeeze. He didn't even need to look to know that it was Ginny, and he felt immensely comforted by the gesture.

The swirling faded to nothingness. Harry gave Ginny's hand what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and released it, reaching for his wand as the last swirls of light vanished.

"Leave it where it is, laddie. Don't want to give us all away, do you?"

Harry looked up into the unsmiling face of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Good of you to meet us, Alastor. And you, Dedalus."

Dead-Eye Diggle _was_ smiling, but grimly and without much in the way of his usually apparent humour.

"A bad place this, Dumbledore. Not a good omen."

"I didn't realise that you were superstitious, Dedalus," Dumbledore said.

"This is a special circumstance," Dedalus said. His voice dropped to barely more than a whisper, but Harry could still hear what he was saying. "Albus, I was the first one here that night. I could feel the evil in the air. I never wanted to come back. If it were anyone else, not you or Harry, then I wouldn't be here. This place is-" he shivered, and his ever-present top hat nearly slipped off his head "-spooky. Small wonder it's nearly deserted nowadays."

Dumbledore muttered a few words to Diggle, who straightened up and nodded curtly. Moody took his old partner by the arm and they had a brief exchange.

"Potter, you're still leading the Dueling Club, right?"

Harry looked up at Moody, and nodded.

"Good, then you and your friends can be our reserves."

"What do you mean reserves?" Harry bristled, his nerves suddenly forgotten.

"You'll keep watch. We think we know where the Temple is. We've been watching the last five minutes, and there's a lot of Death Eaters milling around down there."

"In public?" Ron asked, his brown knitting together. "That doesn't sound like them."

"They're not masked," Malfoy growled. "Macnair's down there. So's Gillings. We saw your father wandering around, too," he added to Draco, who didn't react beyond a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"Besides, the place is almost deserted, as I already said," Diggle said testily. Harry looked at him, surprised that the experienced Auror was allowing himself to be unsettled by the atmosphere.

"Where's the Temple?" Hermione asked.

"Right in the centre, if we're right," Moody said.

Hermione held her wand up to her right eye and said "_Oculus Magnificare!_"

Her wand turned into a brass telescope and Harry absently noted the spell. He looked around, and for the first time realised that they were standing on a small hill, at the foot of which was a village with a lake on the far side, glimmering brightly in the early morning sunshine. One or two of the houses had smoke curling upwards from their chimneys but in general the village looked, as Diggle had said, deserted.

Except for in the very centre of the village. A grand looking house stood there, much more ornate than the surrounding homes.

"Bow Manor," Moody said, his own telescope held up to his real eye. "Bowman Wright lived there, once upon a time. He invented the Golden Snitch and was richer than Nicholas Flamel. He owned the whole village and a large chunk of the county as well."

"What happened?" Hermione asked as Draco and Ginny each conjured a telescope to look more closely at Bow Manor.

"He made his Snitches a bit too well. They didn't wear out, so once someone had one, they hardly ever had to be replaced. He lost his money, lost his land and eventually lost the house. It passed from owner to owner and now it's empty, same as most houses down there."

"Why do people still live there?" Harry asked.

"People have to live somewhere," Moody said. "A lot of 'em moved out after, well, after you defeated Voldemort. No one much wanted to move in here. Dedalus is right. There's a bad feeling in this place."

"Alastor, please," Dumbledore murmured.

"Well, us four'll go in first," Moody said, pointing at himself, Diggle, Dumbledore and Professor Skeeter. "We'll use Disillusionment charms to let ourselves get close, and I'm sure we can grab one of those scum and make him talk."

"I will not tolerate torture, Alastor," Dumbledore said mildly.

"I wasn't talking about torture, Albus. You know me better than that."

"Of course, forgive me," Dumbledore said. To Harry, it seemed that the old wizard had wanted to remind Moody of his duties in a way that would not embarrass the ex-Auror. Harry wasn't sure that he had succeeded.

"I won't sink to their levels, Albus," Moody said coldly.

"We are all on edge, Alastor. Forgive me," Dumbledore repeated. Moody bowed his head.

"Yeah. The sooner we get in there and sort this out, the sooner we can be away. Dedalus isn't the only one not happy about being here."

"None of us are," Harry said. "I was supposed to be revising for my SKREWTs this morning, not travelling to my dead parents' old home to fight Death Eaters."

Moody and Diggle regarded Harry for a second before Diggle gave a snort of laughter that broke the tension surrounding the small group.

"Never mind, lad," he said. "We'll have you back and studying as soon as we can."

"No rush," Ron muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Hermione shushed him quickly.

"If we do not return in fifteen minutes, summon assistance," Dumbledore told Harry quietly. "We should be back with information by then, and we can decide what to do based on firmer knowledge."

Harry nodded. The members of his group, including Gilderoy Lockhart, were all looking to him. He drew his wand, carefully. Moody nodded approvingly.

"Try not to get yourselves killed," he said. Then he and Diggle rapped each other on the head with their wands, as did Professor Skeeter and Dumbledore. Harry watched as they became transparent. They were still visible, but it was much harder to see them unless you knew what you were looking for. Harry squinted, watching them as they moved down the hillside, but after only a few seconds they were lost from view.

"What now?" Ron asked.

"Now we wait," Harry said, shooting his friend a wry grin. "I'm sure Hermione would be happy to help your prepare for your SKREWTs if you ask."

They waited in silence. Without Dumbledore and the other Order members around, they felt vulnerable. Lockhart, despite being the only adult present, seemed to be the most nervous. Harry thought that he was doing a good job of hiding it, however. He sat with his back against a tree, his wand drawn and ready, and only jumped when a squirrel ran down the tree trunk and onto his head.

After ten minutes, Draco grew fidgety and started pacing. He kept putting his telescope to his eye and looking down at the village below.

"Do you see anything?" Harry asked eventually.

"No. I recognise one or two people down there, old friends of my father. But I haven't seen _him_, and I don't see the Headmaster, either. Although I suppose that's a good thing."

Five more minutes passed, and Harry was tempted to summon more help from the Order, but he was reluctant to do so with Draco present.

_There's no need to panic just yet,_ he told himself, squinting down towards the town again. _They've been delayed. If we summon help now, we could give ourselves away. Give them another fifteen minutes._

In fact, it was seven minutes later that Moody led his group into the clearing. He gave Harry a small nod, apparently approving of his decision to wait before summoning reinforcements.

"Found one," Dedalus said, apparently a lot more cheerful for their expedition. "A quick tap on the head, a few drops of Veritaserum, and _voila_. He didn't know exactly what they were doing there, but he did say that Voldemort was there, and that he was in Bow Manor."

"We have surmised that he will be deep under the Manor itself," Dumbledore continued. "Le Fay will not have wanted her rest disturbed by just anyone, so I would suspect that there will be quite a lot of walking to do before they find the Temple itself."

"How long have they been here?" Ron asked.

"Not long. It took Pettigrew time to find them, so they only arrived a few minutes before Alastor and Dedalus."

"Then they've got a thirty minute head start?" Harry asked.

"About that, yeah," Moody growled. "That's where you kids come in," he added, his eyes gleaming in a way that Harry wasn't sure that he liked. "You're young, you're fit - not like me and Dead Eye here - and you're in a lot better shape than the Death Eaters are."

"You want us to chase after them?" Hermione asked faintly.

"None of us is as young as we would like," Dedalus said. "And Mad-Eye here is no good for chasing people," he added, with a grin at the annoyance on Moody's face. "We're going to create a diversion to let you slip into the Manor."

"What sort of diversion?" Harry asked.

"A loud and messy one," Moody growled. "And if we take down some Death Eaters too, then all the better."

"It is a volunteer mission, of course," Dumbledore said. "We cannot waste much more time."

"What will you be doing?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Myself and Professor Skeeter will be going into the Manor as well. I ask your assistance because you are here, because you have learned a great deal, and because in the case of yourself and Mr. Weasley, you are seventeen and therefore of age."

"I'm going," Ron said immediately. "The Temple of Le Fay? And I can do a spell that makes King Arthur's sword? That's got to be a sign, right?"

"And I'm going, of course," Hermione said, taking Ron's hand.

"Harry?"

It was Ginny who had spoken. She was looking at Harry nervously, but a part of him noticed that she was standing beside Ron and Hermione. She was going to march into almost certain death on Dumbledore's request.

_And how would you feel if she died because you weren't by her side?_ It was Sirius' voice, if not his actual words, and it was enough to convince Harry where he had to be.

"I'll go," he said. Ginny didn't even say anything, she just stood side by side with Harry, Ron and Hermione and set her jaw in a way that brooked no arguments.

All attention turned to Draco.

"How can I say no?" he said, drawing his wand and joining the others. "Perhaps now the Malfoy name will regain some of its former glory."

Dumbledore appeared troubled by Draco's words, but said nothing. Harry didn't think any more about it. He was motivated more by a desire to protect Ginny from harm than by any desire to face Death Eaters and perhaps even Voldemort. He would have gone, he was sure, even if he was the only person there, but Ginny's presence gave him a greater incentive. If Draco was motivated to prove himself against the world's image of the Malfoy family, then Harry could live with that.

The group made their way down the hillside towards the outskirts of the town. Dumbledore had cast an invisibility charm over the group that completely hid them from view as they approached Godric's Hollow.

Harry walked between Draco and Ginny, his eyes constantly scanning ahead of them. He felt thoroughly nervous about walking into the town where his parents had died, where he had had his first confrontation with Voldemort, where he had been supposed to grow up as what would surely have been the first of many children in his family. He wondered briefly what life would have been like if Voldemort hadn't existed. He usually tried to avoid such thoughts, but found himself unable to avoid it with such a potent reminder of the past laid out before him.

Would he have been like Bill Weasley, an example for all of his younger siblings? Would he have been like Fred and George, released from all parental expectations by his more responsible siblings? Would he and Ron have become friends if he hadn't been the Boy-Who-Lived? Would he instead have been a lifelong friend with Neville, whose birthday was only a few days before his?

Would he have been in Gryffindor? Would he have fallen for Ginny?

Would he have been anything like he was now?

_You're being ridiculous,_ he told himself sternly. _This is like learning to fight Dementors. You have a job to do now. You can't wallow in thoughts about the family that you'll never have. James and Lily Potter are dead and gone, any other children they may have had didn't get the chance of life. You're it, and if you don't stay focused, then you'll be dead too._

Harry grimaced, not noticing the look Ginny gave him. Draco walked on oblivious.

They came to the edge of the village, and took cover behind a small cottage that seemed deserted.

Moody stood by the corner, his magical eye swiveling wildly in its socket.

"Death Eaters," he said, pointing to the east. "The manor's west of here. They're making it easy for us. We'll make a fuss, and you can get into the Manor. Piece of cake."

"Is my father with the Death Eaters?" Draco asked quietly.

"Yeah," Moody replied. "Hey, wait!"

But Draco wouldn't wait. He sprang forward and streaked off, breaking through Dumbledore's invisibility shroud without pausing. The others crowded around Moody, watching Draco sprint towards the four Death Eaters who had emerged from between two buildings. Lucius Malfoy's long blonde hair was immediately recognisable among the Death Eaters, and it was at him who Draco seemed to be running.

Harry stood frozen to the spot, dreading what would come next. Either Malfoy was a traitor, or...

No one moved. Even Dumbledore stayed still as the first Death Eater saw Draco. He yelled, and brought his wand up to hex the approaching figure, but Lucius moved as quickly as he had in Hogsmeade a year before. His cane lashed out, meeting the Death Eater's arm with a crack clearly audible even to Harry and the others. The Death Eater grabbed his stricken arm, the wand falling from his limp fingers, but he didn't cry out.

"Voldemort must have been torturing his men," Moody growled, his voice barely more than a whisper. "They've become used to pain."

Harry's stomach twisted at the thought.

_Is that what was different about Wormtail this morning? Has he been tortured so much that he's just used by pain? And if he's used to pain, does that mean he's not scared of it? How do you fight someone who's not scared of pain?_

Harry's train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt as Draco reached the Death Eaters and yelled something at them that Harry couldn't make out.

"'I'm here for you, father,'" Dumbledore said quietly. They watched Lucius pull up short in shock and reply.

"'What... What are you doing here?'

'I said that I've come for you.'" Dumbledore quoted Draco.

"'Here? Now? Do you have any idea...'

'I know exactly what you're doing here, father. Trying to grab power as always. I'm not an idiot. I was sorted into Ravenclaw'

'Hardly something to be proud of,'" Dumbledore said, trying to replicate the sneer in Lucius Malfoy's voice as closely as possible, but unable to even come near. "'Besides, I'd hardly say that you were intelligent, _my son_. You've come here alone and confronted a man who will kill you without blinking an eye.'

'You won't kill me.'

'My boy, I _am_ a Death Eater.'"

And with that, Lucius drew his wand and, with a whispered curse that even Dumbledore could not hear, sent a blast of green light into the chest of his only son.

"He's killed him," Hermione breathed. "He's killed his own son."

_To be continued..._

**Harry/Ginnyfan4ever:** Glad that you were getting so worked up over the story. Hope you enjoy the last few chapters

**Frantic:** Professor Skeeter won't be teaching at Hogwarts next year, but I do have a role for her in mind. I'm not saying that she'll get out of this scot-free, though. Far from it...

**Emma Barrows:** This story is going all the way to the end, trust me on that.

**Silver Warrior:** Pettigrew's escaped again, but you never know what's just around the corner

**Eric2:** Does this chapter answer your first question?

**Daily Prophet Reporting:** Welcome back ;-) Draco reformed? Well, it seems like we'll never know the truth If he was for real or not now...

**Sherbert79: **Harry, as you say, is a gentleman, and too scared of losing Ginny to make his move now. We'll see what happens in the future.

**James Milamber:** As I understand it, Veritaserum would be useless on someone who has acted under the Imperius curse. They would be unable to say whether they acted of their own accord or as a result of orders given by Voldemort. Malfoy escaped justice after the first war by saying the same thing, so he even has precedent on his side.

Lots of reviews :-) Two more chapters to go...


	36. Chapter Thirty Five: Beneath Bow Manor

**_Chapter Thirty-Five: Beneath Bow Manor_******

Harry watched Draco stagger backwards. It was too far to see his face clearly, but Harry could imagine the look of surprise on that would be there. Draco had been killed by his own father. Who could suspect their own father of being capable of murdering them?

"Idiot boy," Moody growled, as Draco toppled to his knees and then crashed to the dirt, limbs askew and evidently very dead.

"We should move on," Dumbledore said quietly. No one knew what to say. The pain was etched in Dumbledore's voice. He had lost a pupil in his care. Harry knew that the elderly wizard's heart had just broken.

"Alastor, Dedalus, if you would be so good?" Dumbledore said, gesturing wearily.

"Of course," Dedalus said, his usual bluster gone. "We'll give you the time you need."

"Thank you."

Moody and Diggle left the invisibility shroud far more sedately than Draco had. Moody limped along behind Dedalus, the two ex-Aurors holding their wands ready to strike out at anything that got in their way.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said. "Draco acted as almost any young man of his age would. I underestimated his desire to prove himself to his father, which manifested itself in this unfortunate way."

He shook his head, and appeared inexpressibly tired.

"Sir, we should go," Harry said. Dumbledore nodded.

"Quite right, Harry. Alastor and Dedalus will only be able to buy us so much time."

Dumbledore rose up to his full height. He looked impressive even when he was suffering, but when he projected the air of confidence that he was now, Dumbledore appeared invincible. Professor Skeeter marched beside him, all traces of early-morning lethargy gone. She was alert and focused, her wand held ready and trained forward.

"Should we call for more help?" Ginny asked nervously.

"Not for the time being," Dumbledore said, leading them through the deserted streets of Godric's Hollow. "There are still residents in the area, and I do not want them to be placed in the middle of a battlefield if we can possibly avoid it. Besides, the Order is not yet ready for a pitched battle with Voldemort's forces."

"And you don't let your opponent choose the battlefield," Ron muttered.

"That too, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "I am glad that you listen to your own advice at the Dueling Club."

The voice was Dumbledore's, and the humour definitely belonged to the Headmaster, but there was no trace of levity in his voice. Harry shivered, realising how badly hit Dumbledore was by Draco's death.

For Harry, the loss of the Ravenclaw was painful, but there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. He had learned from watching Cedric die, and from torturing himself over it, that sometimes there was nothing that could be done.

But Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard alive. Even Voldemort was scared of him. For him to watch helplessly as one of his pupils was killed must have felt like a knife in his heart.

They approached Bow Manor from the rear. A single Death Eater stood guard beside a small door.

"I can take him from here," Skeeter said calmly, extending her wand.

"Allow me," Lockhart said.

"Gilderoy?"

"He looks like a fan," Lockhart replied. And before anyone could stop him, he stepped out from beneath the shroud and approached the Death Eater.

Harry held his breath, waiting for the Death Eater to draw his wand and strike Lockhart down. Instead, Lockhart walked right up to the man. They exchanged a few words, and then Lockhart struck, grabbing the man's jaw and cracking his head against the solid stone wall of the Manor.

"Blimey," Ron muttered.

The Death Eater slithered bonelessly to the ground. Gilderoy reached into his robes and pulled out the man's wand, snapping it over his knee as the others approached. He opened the door, and they all filed inside.

Once inside the Manor, Dumbledore dropped the invisibility shroud. Harry wondered how much concentration it had taken to shield so many people for so long, but to Dumbledore it appeared to have been no effort at all.

They fanned out, exploring the room they had entered. It was a small scullery that Harry supposed had been where the servants had spent their time. It appeared as though it had been untouched for several years. A layer of dust covered everything, apart from several sets of footprints that went from the door they had come through to another in the far wall.

"Nice of them to leave us a trail," Skeeter muttered. She walked over to the door and opened it cautiously. She peered out.

"No one there. Come on."

They followed Skeeter through the deserted corridors of the Manor, following the footprints in the thick dust that coated everything. Harry could feel the dust tickling his sinuses and struggled not to sneeze.

After several minutes, they found what they were looking for.

They had found the main entrance hall of the Manor. It appeared as serene and undisturbed as the rest of the building, apart from a ten-foot wide hole in the middle of the floor. The edges of the hole smoked slightly as they approached.

"Burnt through," Dumbledore said superfluously, crouching down to check the hole as Harry, Ron and Skeeter kept an eye out for any hidden Death Eaters who may have been guarding the hole.

"If Tom has a weakness," Dumbledore continued, using Voldemort's birth name, "it is a tendency to be overconfident. When last he was here, he underestimated the strength of a mother's love. Now that he is so close to almost unlimited strength, he believes that he does not have to worry about anyone stopping him."

He straightened up with a sigh.

"You would think that he would learn. Better, I suppose, that he does not. If you would all follow me?"

He lowered himself into the hole, which was positioned above a drop of about fifteen feet.

"Careful, now. I'll float you down," he said from the ground below. He matched word to deed, guiding Professor Skeeter, Lockhart, Harry, Hermione, Ron and finally Ginny down to join him.

"An extensive wine cellar," he said, looking around. "Now, alas, quite empty."

"What are we looking for? A trapdoor?" Ron asked, glancing around.

"I do not know," Dumbledore admitted. "Whatever means Le Fay had of protecting the entrance to her tomb will be several hundred years old. It will not have gone undiscovered so long by being obvious, but beyond that, I have no idea what it will look like."

"I think I do," said Hermione. She was looking at the far corner of the cellar, where the stone used in the cellar's construction was missing. Instead, there was a patch of earth with a hole in it, just wide enough to admit a grown man.

"Ingenious," Dumbledore said, studying it. "Truly brilliant."

Harry wasn't sure what was brilliant about a hole in the ground. Dumbledore, seemingly sensing the question, looked up at him with a small smile.

"Le Fay protected the entrance simply by having someone pile a great deal of earth upon it. Further down, there will doubtless be charms and curses to protect the tomb, but two hundred feet of dirt would be enough to blunt the senses of all but the most powerful wizards."

"But Voldemort knew exactly what he was looking for?" Harry asked.

"Tom, as we know, has been conducting his own research into the Temple. It appears that he found out more than we did about the construction of Le Fay's tomb, if not its actual location. Well, we shall have to muddle through as best we can."

He sat on the lip of the hole, which Harry now noticed was slanted like a slide.

"It has been a _very_ long time since I did anything like this," Dumbledore commented, before pushing off and vanishing into the hole. Skeeter followed him without hesitation, and Harry then got himself ready.

"Wish me luck," he said to the others, as they formed up behind him.

"See you at the bottom," Ron replied.

Harry glanced at Ginny, who looked extremely nervous, and Harry knew exactly why. The slide down reminded him powerfully of the way he'd got into the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. He imagined that for Ginny, it had the same effect.

"It'll be fine," he said to her.

"He's down there again," she said, smiling weakly.

"And so's Dumbledore," Harry said. "I'll be there again too, if that helps."

"It does," she said quietly.

Harry kicked off, keeping the memory of Ginny's words in his mind. He plummeted down the shaft for a few seconds before dropping, feet first, onto a cushioning charm that Professor Skeeter was focusing on the landing point.

One by one, Lockhart, Ron, Ginny and Hermione dropped out of the shaft. The seven of them stood in the middle of a corridor that curved away in both directions. Dumbledore was standing stiffly a little way away from the others, his wand held out before him and an emotionless expression on his face.

"There is so much magic here," he said eventually. "It is quite impossible to say which way Tom and his friends went. We will have to split up."

Harry felt Hermione tense beside him. He didn't blame her. The thought of leaving Dumbledore and making his own way through this underground tomb was worrying, to say the least. His scar was hurting, as well. It was only a light pain, but it surely meant that Voldemort was nearby.

"I could come up with any number of ways of dividing our number," Dumbledore continued. "But I think we all know which division makes the most sense."

He was right. There was only one possible way that the group could split up. Dumbledore, Skeeter and Lockhart would go one way, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny would go the other. The four students knew each other and themselves well enough to be able to rely upon each other in a battle situation. Indeed, they had done so the year before very successfully. The adults, on the other hand, had rather weaker ties to one another, but Skeeter and Dumbledore were much more experienced at fighting, and whatever help Lockhart could give was better suited to their side.

"Harry, I think it is time for us to summon help," Dumbledore said. He and Harry reached inside their robes, took out their golden coins and said "Fawkes" together. The coins glowed brightly in their hands. Fawkes, who had been perched on Dumbledore's shoulder throughout their time in Godric's Hollow, puffed out his chest at the mention of his name.

"Order members will be alerted. In my absence, they will contact Professor McGonagall. I left a message in my office for her, so she will be able to advise them on where to go."

"You've thought of everything," Harry said.

"I very much doubt it," Dumbledore said. "Although I suppose we can hope so."

* * *

Professor McGonagall Flooed into Dumbledore's office. The instant she stepped from the fireplace it reignited as three heads appeared in the flames: Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Gentlemen," McGonagall said calmly. "I assume that you received Albus' call as well."

"We got it, Minerva," Kingsley said in his slow, deep voice. "Albus is in trouble."

"I very much doubt it," McGonagall replied, confidently. "However, he has left a note. One second, please."

She read the note through twice. Then she reached into one of Dumbledore's drawers and took out a piece of parchment that for a second reminded Remus of the Marauder's Map.

McGonagall waved her wand over the parchment.

"They have gone to Godric's Hollow," she said stiffly.

"Godric's Hollow? They?" Arthur asked. "There was a second alert, but no one knew whose it was. It's Harry, isn't it."

"Yes. And also Ron, Ginny and Hermione Granger," McGonagall said. "Professor Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart are with them. Alastor and Dedalus are in the area as well."

"What does Albus say?" Remus asked.

"His letter says that they have found the Temple of Le Fay. It seems that Dumbledore and the others are have gone to try and stop You Know Who. Apparently Pettigrew was here-"

There was a scuffling noise from the fireplace. Sirius' head joined Remus in the flames.

"Wormtail? The little rat. We're going after him, I presume," Sirius snarled.

"Yourself and Remus are, yes. Kingsley, will you and Tonks join them? Arthur, you and Molly-"

"Are coming too," Mr. Weasley said, his expression set as though in stone. "Bill and Charlie are here. I'll bring them along. I'm going to be having some serious words with Dumbledore when he comes back," Arthur said, radiating a cold fury as he prepared to chase his two youngest children into danger.

"Gentlemen, you know how Dumbledore has trained you. Concealment is vital."

The three heads nodded. "We know what to do," Kingsley said.

* * *

It was cold, dark and damp. They'd been walking in silence since leaving Dumbledore's group behind. Harry looked at Ginny, on one side of him, and Ron on the other. They seemed calm. Composed. Hermione, who was bringing up the rear, had settled down after earlier trepidation and was now focused as intently on disrupting Voldemort's plans as she usually was on her Arithmancy work.

_Am I the only one who's frightened?_ Harry wondered. It didn't occur to him that he had the same calm look on his face that the others did, nor that they might all be wondering exactly the same thing about each other.

In addition to worrying about how worried he was, Harry was beginning to wonder about when they were going to run into the first of the traps that Le Fay would have left for the unwary to stumble across.

_Surely there must have been something. I wouldn't imagine it was very tricky, this close to the surface. If I were an evil, dying, twisted old hag, I'd put something simple right at the start and then start making things more difficult. And occasionally there'd be something really evil just to catch out anyone feeling over confident._

Harry shuddered slightly, realising how it easy it was to think in an evil way.__

_Of course, if the Death Eaters did come this way, they'll have activated all the traps before us. But there haven't been any bodies or debris or anything. Maybe Le Fay wanted to lull intruders into a false sense of security?_

As if in answer to Harry's thoughts, six Death Eaters stepped out of the shadows in front of them.

_Oh, Merlin..._

There was a pause of several seconds' duration. The Death Eaters and the Hogwarts students faced one another calmly, as though this was a dance and each person was deciding who to ask first.

Harry used the time to study the Death Eaters' faces. Like their colleagues aboveground, they hadn't bothered with masks. Instead they were barefaced, sneering openly at Harry and the others, seemingly not anticipating much resistance from an outnumbered group of teenagers.

The first spell flew from Harry's glowing wand, a Disarming hex that threw the centremost Death Eater backwards some fifteen feet before he hit the unforgiving tunnel wall and clattered, unconscious, to the ground.

The expressions on the Death Eaters faces changed, and suddenly they were taking the fight very seriously indeed.

They lashed out at the same time, five red bolts of light blasting from their wands.

The curses crashed into Harry's Shield charm, which rang like a gong but withstood the assault. The curses ricocheted outwards, impacting on the hard walls and roof.

"Stunners when I drop the shield!" Harry barked. The others pointed their wands around him and when the shield fell three Stunning spells leapt from their wands. Ron and Ginny's Stunners caught the leftmost wizard, sending him sprawling to the floor. Hermione's was partially blocked by the wizard she had targeted, but he still staggered backwards, cracking his head on a rock jutting from the wall.

"You're outnumbered," Harry said. "You won't win. Just give up now and save us some time."

"You cannot possibly be serious?" one of the Death Eaters asked. He was a tall, skinny man with messy black hair much like Harry's own. He looked slightly familiar, but Harry couldn't place him. "Voldemort's punishment for disloyalty is endless pain, boy. What could you possibly offer us against that?"

"A leader who doesn't threaten pain as a way of motivating his allies?" Hermione suggested.

"What does your precious Dumbledore give you then?" the black haired man sneered.

_He looks really familiar. Where do I know him from?_

"Sugar Quills," Ron growled. "Now are you going to give up?"

"And stop trying to look like Harry's Dad!" Ginny said suddenly.

"Dad?"

Harry stepped forward, almost without realising it. The Death Eater grinned triumphantly.

"That's right, son. Come to me. I'm sorry I've been away so long."

Harry drifted forward. The world had fallen away to nothing around him.

_My dad's alive! It's going to be okay..._

Suddenly Harry stopped. His heart was pounding and his mouth was suddenly dry. From nowhere, he felt a great wave of fear and anxiety wash over him. His scar was throbbing now, waves of searing pain pulsing through his skull and making it hard to concentrate. But it wasn't that which had made him stop.

He looked at the man who he suddenly wasn't sure was his father.

"I've got your old map, Dad," he said quietly. "The one that you and Frank Longbottom drew up."

"That's right son. Good old Frank, my best friend. I can't wait to see him again."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Get out of my head, Tom," he growled.

"The master says it's easier to be in your head than to stay out," the Death Eater laughed, looking less and less like Harry's father by the second. Harry's scar throbbed and he knew that Voldemort had been manipulating his senses. He felt his cheeks flush.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_"

Ron, Ginny and Hermione clapped their hands to their ears as Harry's roar echoed through the tunnel. The three conscious Death Eaters didn't protect themselves; they didn't have time. They were simply blown backwards, instantly concussed by the force of Harry's spell. Their unconscious bodies crashed painfully into the tunnel wall.

Harry winced.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. For once Hermione didn't scold him about his language.

"Let's get on," Harry said as an ominous rumble sounded overhead. "I don't like the sound of that."

"I think that Harry's right," Hermione said, glancing nervously upwards. "I'm certain there weren't as many cracks in this ceiling a moment ago.

Everyone looked upwards for a split-second and then began to run down the tunnel, past the fallen bodies of the first three Death Eaters and then, fifty feet further on, the bodies of the three who had borne the high-powered brunt of Harry's second Disarming spell. Harry noticed in passing that the one who had looked briefly like James Potter now bore a much closer resemblance to Macnair, the Ministry employee who had been assigned to kill Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Harry supposed that they were family.

They were twenty feet beyond the last of the Death Eaters when the roof behind them collapsed and the lake began to spill into the tunnel.

There wasn't even time for them to cry out as they were swept up in the torrent and carried through the tunnel at high speeds, flashing past traps that were triggered milliseconds after they were safe. Flames were doused by the water, poison darts were swept up by the pounding waves and quarter-ton slabs of rock dropped from the ceiling only to crash harmlessly into the surf below.

Eventually the water flooded into a deep, bowl like chamber with a deafening crash. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were pounded by the waves as they struggled so stay afloat. Harry was momentarily glad of his summer at the Burrow, where Ron had taken it upon himself to teach Harry to swim. As the water calmed around them, he swum feebly to the side of the cave, his wand clenched tightly between his teeth and his hair hanging in his eyes. He grasped the cave wall and sank against it, grateful to be still. His body ached all over where rocks had been swept against him and where he had crashed into the tunnel walls. His head ached, and he smiled grimly as he recognised the source of the pain. It didn't come from an injury, at least, not a new one.

Ron pulled himself panting and gasping onto the same rock as Harry. They hung breathless alongside one another for a long moment. Harry spat his wand out into his hand.

"Where's Ginny and Hermione?"

Ron gestured over his shoulder. "Other side. Saw 'em swimming-"

"Ron!"

"Harry!"

They whirled around. Harry automatically sought out Ginny's fiery mane and found her clinging to the far wall of the cavern. He looked for Hermione, but couldn't see her immediately.

"Where-"

"Hermione!"

Harry followed Ron's gaze, and saw Hermione struggling frantically. Harry belatedly realised that there was a faint current pulling at him and that the water was foaming at the far end of the cave. Hermione was being pulled in that direction, seemingly unable to break free.

"I've got to-"

Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder before he could swim to his girlfriend.

"Wait!"

"Harry! Let me go!"

His head throbbing, Harry didn't answer, instead bringing his wand around and saying "_Aqua Spirare!_"

The Bubblehead charm took shape atop Ron's shoulders. Unlike the uncontrolled versions used by Colin Creevey and Ron himself during study sessions earlier in the year, Harry's charm was a sleek bullet shaped helmet that would actually help improve Ron's aerodynamic profile as he swam after Hermione.

Ron paused for a second, treading water as he looked back at Harry through the distorting field of the charm. Harry was conscious of great thought taking place behind Ron's eyes, and then his friend gave him a quick thumbs-up before turning and swimming quickly after Hermione, his long legs powering him across the distance between the two of them. Just as he reached her, however, she was sucked under the water. Without hesitation, he dived under, his feet appearing above the surface of the water and kicking furiously for a second before they too disappeared.

"Ron!" Ginny shrieked, pushing off from the wall and swimming out to where her brother had dived. Harry had anticipated her response and was already on his way, grabbing her around the waist at a point where the current started to become particularly turbulent. He held her tightly, fighting her strong strokes, doing everything in his power to stop her diving after her brother and her friend.

"Stop it!" he yelled. "They're gone. Ron will save Hermione, trust me."

Slowly, eventually, her struggles slowed and she hung there in the water with him, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he kicked calmly away from the thrashing, pounding, white-foamed water.

"There's a hole down there," Harry said, pointing down into the water. "Hermione got sucked down and Ron followed. The water in here is starting to drain out that way."

"Are we going to follow them?" Ginny asked.

"No. We're going another way," Harry said.

"Why?"

"Because I can hear him calling me," Harry said. "I can hear Voldemort calling me, and that's not the best way to get to him."

* * *

They scrambled onto a ledge a few feet above the slowly draining water.

"You can hear him?" Ginny asked nervously.

"Yeah. We're close, Ginny. He's... he's not calling me exactly. But he's waiting. He's..." Harry reached up and touched his scar. This close to Voldemort, it felt as though his head would split open. "Excited," he finished, his stomach churning at the sensation.

"You don't seem very worried."

"I am," he said. "I don't want to fight him, Ginny," he said slowly. "My best friends may be dead-" Harry felt numb just considering it "-Dumbledore isn't there yet, so I have to."

"But you said-"

"I have to," Harry sighed. "What choice do I have?"

"Of course you have a choice!"

"No, I don't. It's my duty to stop him. If he gets Le Fay's power, then no one will be able to stand against him. The only hope is to stop him now."

He stood up slowly, feeling somewhat dizzy as his head pounded. He wondered momentarily if his scar was glowing.

_It feels like it's on fire. Maybe it looks like it as well?_

He reached down to Ginny, grasping her hand and pulling her upright. She put her hand up to his forehead and he winced in anticipation of her touching the lightning bolt that zigzagged across his forehead. Instead she brushed at his fringe, sweeping it back and out of his eyes.

He took her hand in his.

"Ginny, I don't want you to come with me," he said. Before she could object he added "But you have to, I know. What Voldemort did to you, well, you can remember. This time you can help me fight him. I need you there with me. I can't fight him on my own; just being around him hurts me, and now he can get inside my head and make me see what he wants me to."

He took a deep breath.

"The bond between us confuses him," he said, knowing as he did so that it was true, and why it was true as well. "He doesn't understand what makes it so strong. I know that Dumbledore has been teaching you to close off the bond between us, but if you open it up then I'll be able to think clearly, it'll stop him getting into my head. That's why I need you there beside me. With you beside me, I can do it. I hate having to ask you this, but please, I need you to help me."

Ginny looked up at him, a myriad emotions struggling for supremacy on her face.

"As if you could stop me," she said, squeezing his hand firmly in hers.

* * *

They walked through the tunnels, following the echoes in Harry's mind. He wasn't sure how much Voldemort knew about the bond that he shared with Harry, but he didn't seem to be sending anything deliberately at him. All Harry was getting was bursts of emotions and jumbled thoughts that were becoming stronger and clearer as they moved deeper and deeper underground. Harry's scar throbbed under the onslaught of images, and a number of times he stumbled as a particularly strong wave of emotion swept over him.

They had been walking in near silence for nearly an hour. Voldemort had grown angrier and calmer in cycles, although Harry was not sure quite why. When he and Ginny had stumbled across the first Death Eater corpse, he suddenly realised what Voldemort's mood swings had been about. The man had been crushed to death by two heavy slabs of rock that had apparently been fired from the walls of the tunnel. Harry and Ginny had regarded the slabs and the corpse with mounting feelings of trepidation.

_How much magic would you need to set up a trap like that? And for it to still be working after all these centuries? How many traps did Le Fay set in this place?_

Over the next hour, they found three more dead bodies, staggered at irregular intervals. Le Fay had set the traps to catch the unwary or overconfident, and also to exploit weaknesses in an intruder's skill. As well as the slabs, there was a corpse that had been sliced in two by a blade, one that had been suffocated by a magically engorged Audrus Audrus plant - which was slowly eating the corpse from the feet up – and the fourth had fallen into a pit of spikes. Ginny had nearly thrown up on seeing the body, but had managed to control herself.

After that there was nothing. They found traps that had been sprung, but no bodies. There were signs of intense magical use and Harry had a vision of Voldemort taking the lead in exasperation and simply blasting his way through the tunnels, triggering all the traps from a safe distance.

They walked on in absolute silence, hands still clasped together and walking as close as they could to one another. Neither of them wanted to lose the other. Harry tried to keep his mind clear of worry for Ron, Hermione and the others, in case Voldemort could sense the emotion and use it against him. But he found it hard not to be scared for his friends, and for himself and Ginny.

And then there was a faint light ahead of them. Where Harry and Ginny had been navigating by the light from their wands – in Harry's case he hadn't needed to cast the Lumos spell – they were now able to see without them. They lowered their wands, and edged forwards.

"Bring them," said an unnaturally high voice. Harry shuddered. He would have recognised the voice anywhere.

Two large, powerful looking Death Eaters stepped into the tunnel. One of them chuckled roughly when he saw Ginny and made a grab for her. Harry lashed out, punching the far larger man square on the nose and feeling a momentary flash of satisfaction as he felt the man's nose break.

Belatedly, Harry recognised the men. The resemblance to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle was unmistakable; they were unmistakably the Slytherin students' fathers.

"Try and touch her again and I'll make you regret it," Harry said in as calm a voice as he could manage.

Another figure appeared in the light. Taller than Crabbe or Goyle, and painfully thin, it was a horrible sight. Thin, long fingered hands hung from the arms of its robes, a long black wand held meaningfully in one hand. The figure's head was a bleached white colour, without hair or any of the features of a normal human being. It was far more reptilian than mammalian, with a thin, lipless mouth and two tiny nostrils that sat vertically on the noseless face. There were no ears either; instead the head had small bumps on either side.

But worst of all were the eyes. They glowed a deep red, the only touch of colour on an otherwise bone-like face. The pupils were dark, vertical slits and the lids came in from either side of the eye when they blinked, instead of from above and below.

"Punishing my Death Eaters, Potter?" Lord Voldemort asked, yanking Harry and Ginny's wands from them with a single gesture. "Far better for you to kill them. As Morgan Le Fay would attest, were she still alive, my followers will die if you stab them or curse them or choke them." Voldemort's forked tongue flickered briefly over the edges of his mouth as he hissed a mirthless laugh.

"And yet you don't kill, do you Potter? You are far too noble. You would not kill Lucius last year, although he was at your mercy, and now he has risen again from captivity. I admire the man for his deep pockets, if not for his endless and annoying quest for power. Still, he has allowed me to progress further in my _own_ quest for power. Once more I have the blood of my enemies. Take them," he added, as Goyle helped Crabbe to his feet, blood streaming down the latter man's face.

They stepped forward and grabbed Harry and Ginny's arms, a degree of trepidation on their faces.

"You see, Potter?" Voldemort said, his lipless mouth contorting into a semblance of a smirk. "They fear me far more then they do you. They know that angering me will bring them pain, or even death. Let me demonstrate."

He raised his wand and pointed it at Ginny.

"No!" Harry drove his head back as hard as he could and gasped in pain as it drove into Goyle's face. The Death Eater cried out and staggered backwards, releasing Harry who dived in front of Ginny as Voldemort said "_Crucio._"

The Unforgivable curse hit Harry and was almost instantly removed as Voldemort's smile faded. Harry felt as though his skin had been pierced with a thousand red-hot knives for the barest fraction of a second, but he was still standing. He hadn't even had time to scream.

"Risking your life for one girl, Potter? How very like you."

Voldemort moved closer to Ginny, who was glaring at him defiantly.

"She looks very much like your mother, Potter," he said. "And you look like your father, of course. Fitting. I shall enjoy killing you today, Harry, in this place. And this time there will be no mistakes."

Voldemort turned away and slipped the three wands into one of the deep pockets on his robes. Goyle grabbed Harry tightly again and Harry didn't resist, reasoning that the two Death Eaters could probably kill himself and Ginny if they struggled too much.

_I'll wait for the opportune moment. But I need my wand!_

Voldemort paused and looked over his shoulder at Harry.

"Yes, Potter, I imagine you'd like your wand back, much good would it do you."

"Scared to fight me?" Harry asked, trying to ignore his general tiredness and the aches from his scar, the back of his head and the knuckle he had split open on Crabbe's nose.

_I have to delay things. Where's Dumbledore? He could take out Voldemort. I need to make time._

"Hardly."

"Then give me back my wand and face me like a..."

"Man? Potter, haven't you realised yet that I am far more than a man? I am everything that Morgan Le Fay could ever have hoped to be. I am everything that Salazar Slytherin strove to be. I am everything that Grindelwald tried to be, until I betrayed him and took his place. I am everything that Merlin feared becoming, and that Dumbledore has never dared dream of. And when I have Le Fay's power, then I shall be all this and so much more as well."

"And will you be too scared to fight me then as well?"

"Be grateful that I do not strike you down now, Potter. I will fight you, as I fought your father. I bested him, as well. It did not take long. I doubt that you will provide much more of a challenge."

He turned away again and led the way down the brightly-lit tunnel. After several hours underground, Harry was dazzled by the brightness, but it didn't seem to faze Voldemort or his Death Eaters at all.

They arrived in a grand chamber, and Harry understood why Voldemort and the others weren't fazed by the brightness of the tunnel. If the light in the tunnel had been bright, then this room was lit with the brilliance of thousand chandeliers. The light was so bright that Harry could hardly see anything more than a few feet from his face. Voldemort, in his jet-black robes, seemed to absorb the light, however, and stood as though defying the brightness of the room.

"Le Fay's final test," he said. "I can see that you are almost blinded by the light. One simple spell is all it takes to see beyond the light. Let me show you, Potter."

Voldemort drew his wand from his pocket and aimed at Harry's face. "_Lumos Retardare!_"

Harry blinked, the light suddenly dimming to normal levels.

"A fine idea by Le Fay," Voldemort hissed approvingly. "Most wizards would try immensely complicated magic once they got this far. But by requiring such a simple spell, Le Fay ensured that those who knew how and when to use power would be the ones to achieve it."

Harry grimaced as he looked around the room. On a raised platform twenty feet above the cavern floor were dozens of Death Eaters, surrounding them on all sides. Clearly Voldemort's efforts to recruit new followers over the last two years had been successful.

"My loyal followers," Voldemort said, following Harry's gaze. "Any one of them would kill you if I gave the word. But I don't want you dead yet, Potter. I have other uses for you."

"You need my blood again," Harry said. "I know."

"Your blood?" Voldemort laughed, a horrible, high-pitched chuckle that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "No, not this time, Potter. I _did_ need blood to begin the ritual, but it did not need to be yours. Lucius Malfoy was happy to supply me with enemies for me to take blood from. Look behind you, Potter."

Harry didn't want to turn around. A horrible feeling squirmed in his stomach as he began to suspect what he would see. But he had little choice as Goyle forced him to turn.

Harry looked up, fearing what he would see. Voldemort began to laugh as Harry retched at the sight before him, bile rising unbidden in his throat as he looked upon the prone forms of Mad-Eye Moody and Dedalus Diggle.

They were chained to the wall of the cavern, their clothes ripped open and long, deep gashes running the lengths of their arms and legs, and across their chests and necks.

Their blood was draining from the cuts into a hollow in the rock below them, mixing with the water in the hollow. The pool, which was deep enough for a man to be submerged in, was glowing brightly.

Harry forced himself to look away from the pool and back up at Moody and Diggle. He stared intently at them as Crabbe and Goyle's dull, grunting laughs belatedly joined that of their master. He sought out any signs of life, any movement, any breath or twitch.

But there was none.

Moody and Diggle were dead.

_To be continued..._

**Harry/Ginnyfan4ever:** What were Draco's motives? Well, you'll find out more about the Malfoys in the sequel to this story, including more on Draco's year in Ravenclaw...

**GryffRavHuffSlythendor: **Great name! And not long to go now until the end of the story...

**I love Ginny:** Final chapter to come within the next ten days, all things being equal

**Eric2:** Neither did anyone else! But we'll learn a lot more about Draco, Lucius and the Malfoy family as Harry moves into his seventh year

**Silver Warrior:** Killing his only son proves that Lucius is a Death Eater to the core. As for Le Fay's powers, well, you'll see who gets them in the next chapter. I will say, though, that Voldemort has a few tricks up his sleeve...

**Daily Prophet Reporting:** The funeral for the fallen of this battle will help answer your questions. It's mentioned in the Epilogue. As for Harry's companions in this battle, well, he doesn't even have Ron and Hermione now. They've got their own problems to contend with.

**Frantic:** I like to surprise people occasionally...

Come back soon for the concluding chapter: Harry vs. Voldemort!


	37. Chapter Thirty Six: Harry vs Voldemort

**_Chapter Thirty-Six: Harry vs. Voldemort_**

Harry was wrenched around to face Voldemort once more. He felt as though everything he'd gone through that year - the separation from his friends, the injuries, the loss of his powers and now seeing Moody and Diggle dead at the hands of Voldemort - had caught up with him. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and then wake up to discover that it had all been just a dream.

He sagged in Goyle's grip, the heavyset Death Eater grunting as the meager weight of Harry's slight frame hung in his hands. With Goyle distracted, Harry hooked his fingers on the pocket of the Death Eater's robes. No one seemed to notice.

"Demoralised, Potter? I can hardly blame you. Your strongest warriors were stupid enough to attack five Death Eaters. It was a short battle, and of course the two of them were very old. They will not be much missed."

"Just give me my wand," Harry said tiredly. "If you're so sure of yourself, let me fight you."

"So eager to die, Potter? You would not live long in a fight with me. I am stronger, far stronger than when last we met. I was newly reborn then, unsure of what I could do. But two years have passed since that momentous day, and I am well aware of my capabilities."

As though in demonstration, Voldemort waved his wand and a rock beside Harry's foot exploded in a puff of powder.

"I could do that as easily to your head, Potter," Voldemort hissed.

"So prove it," Harry said. _Where are the others!_

Voldmeort was about to reply when a new Death Eater entered the chamber and approached Voldemort carefully, his eyes fixed upon the floor.

"Speak," Voldemort commanded imperiously.

"My lord, we have new prisoners," the man said.

"Bring them in," Voldemort commanded, his red eyes still fixed on Harry.

_Don't let it be Dumbledore, don't let it be Dumbledore, don't let it be Dumbledore,_ Harry thought desperately.

"Let them go, and I'll let you complete the ritual before I attack you," he said suddenly.

"You will attack me?" Voldemort sneered contemptuously. "Better for you to die now, Potter, before your ego becomes too big to control."

As the new Death Eater turned away, Voldemort turned to watch him, but not before spiking Harry with another blast of pain through his scar. Harry took his chance. He slumped backwards into Goyle, shoving his hand deep into the older man's pocket. His fingers closed around the wand concealed there, and he grinned slightly. Goyle _would_ copy Voldemort in keeping his wand in his robe pocket.

The third Death Eater was halfway towards the tunnel when Harry suddenly stood up straight, breaking free of Goyle's grip as he did so. With Goyle's wand pointing behind him, he cast a Disarming spell that caught the Death Eater in the stomach.

Ollivander had been right, all those years ago. The spell that Harry cast was nowhere near as refined as Harry would have expected, had been using his own wand. Instead, Harry's raw magical power blazed almost unchecked from the wand, throwing Goyle up into the air and sending him crashing, hard, into the stone wall of the cavern. He dropped to the ground in a very broken manner, but before he was halfway to the ground, Harry had cast a full body bind at the Death Eater who had brought word of prisoners.

This at least worked as it was intended to do, although the Death Eater was not frozen as though standing at attention. Instead, he was simply frozen in mid step, and toppled to the ground in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

Crabbe, the last remaining Death Eater, was either too slow or too stupid to react to the assault on his colleagues. He held tightly to Ginny and made no effort to go for his wand or get out of the way even as Harry turned and took aim at him. One Stunning spell later - which lifted Crabbe off his feet and dropped him head first to the sandy cavern floor - Ginny was free.

"Run!" Harry yelled, even as he turned to face Voldemort.

Ginny took off like a scalded house elf, snatching up Crabbe's wand, and sprinting across the cavern floor towards the tunnel they had been brought up.

"Not there!" Harry yelled, realising that there were probably Death Eaters waiting in the tunnel with the prisoners that the now-frozen Death Eater had mentioned.

At the last split-second, Ginny's Quidditch-honed reflexes allowed her to throw herself away from the tunnel opening, a red bolt of light searing out of the tunnel and missing her by inches. She crawled quickly across the cavern floor and took cover behind a rock. She was shielded from Voldemort at least, if not the Death Eaters on the raised walkway. There was a pause as Harry and Voldemort stared at each other.

"I just took out three of your best men. Do you want to give up now?" Harry asked quietly. Voldemort looked at him contemptuously.

"I assure you, Potter, that Crabbe, Goyle, and Johnson are hardly my best men. Besides, even if they were, the power that my best men possess is but a fraction of that wielded by Lord Voldemort, and soon my strength will be multiplied many times over as I take what Le Fay has left for her rightful heir."

Harry glanced up at the raised walkway upon which Voldemort's massed Death Eaters were standing. He smiled slightly.

"So you're the heir to Morgan Le Fay as well as Salazar Slytherin? I thought I had bad relatives."

"Enough bantering, Potter. You wish to fight me?"

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't sure that what he was about to do next was very wise. "Better for me to do it now, when you're scared of me," he said.

Voldemort regarded Harry in a way that suggested he doubted Harry's sanity.

"That's the reason you're after Le Fay's power, isn't it? It's in the prophecy. I'll be the first person to die if you get the power, and that means I'm the person you're scared of the most. How many times have we met now? Is it six times? And you've managed to avoid Dumbledore all this time. But I keep interfering, don't I? And so you want the power to fight me, because you know that I can beat you."

"You think that you can defeat me?" Voldemort asked.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry said.

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, a high pitched, whining chuckle that grated on Harry's ears.

Harry took a deep breath and leapt forward, hands outstretched and grasping for Voldemort's thin, scaly neck.

* * *

Ron awoke slowly, his head pounding. He was shivering, and felt as though he'd been for a swim in the lake in the middle of January.

_Like that nutter Krum. Does Hermione still speak to him?_

He opened his eyes carefully, aware that the various sensations that that he was experiencing meant that his hands were tied behind his back and that he was being held face down above the ground. His feet trailed on the floor behind him, and he pulled them under him, ready to spring upright if given the opportunity.

_Or if I find out these wankers holding me are up to no good._

He looked around, his eyes only slightly open as he struggled against the dazzling light that filled the tunnel they were in.__

_Last thing I remember... I found Hermione, and she was still alive, and then there was a load of shouting._

Ron scowled as he realised that he had been stunned and taken prisoner. He craned his neck slightly and saw the Dark Mark on the arm of one of his captors.

_So, that's not good news._

He looked to where the light was brightest and jumped in surprise as Ginny was silhouetted against the light for a split-second. As quick as a flash, one of the Death Eaters drew his wand and aimed. He was halfway through a curse when Ron pushed upwards, breaking free of the grip his captors had upon him and jolting the Death Eater's arm. The curse flew wide, and Ginny disappeared from view.

_Oh, Circe..._

Ron dropped to his knees as the group who were holding him - Ron counted eight men in total - rounded upon him. There was a dull thud as two of them dropped something to the floor - _Please let it be Hermione _-and then they pounced upon him.

* * *

Harry bore Voldemort to the floor, his hands seized tightly around the high collar of the Dark wizard's robes. He felt his knees hit the ground and immediately reared back, lashing out with his left hand and punching Voldemort as hard as he could in his lipless mouth.

Harry cried out as the momentary contact with Voldemort's scaled skin resulted in another shot of agony that blazed furiously through his scar. Shaking his head, he took advantage of Voldemort's momentary disorientation to plunge his hand deep into the robe pocket that held his and Ginny's wands. Plucking them from Voldemort's robes, he pushed himself upright and hopped backwards and out of Voldemort's reach.

Holding Goyle's wand aloft, Harry touched tip of his own wand to it.

"_Incendio_," he muttered, setting the wand alight. He dropped it to the ground where it burnt to ash, the dragon heartstring inside evaporating on contact with air.

Holding up Ginny's wand, he Banished it towards her and watched with a faint smile as she plucked it easily from the air.

"Ready?" he called.

"Just say the word," she replied coolly. Harry was relieved to hear her sounding so composed.

"Just make sure you stay out of this," he said. "I know it's going to take a lot out of you."

He turned to face Voldemort, who was still sprawled on the floor.

"I'm not stupid, Tom. I'm not going anywhere near you. You'll cheat, of course. That's your way."

Voldemort looked up from the floor.

"You've learned, Potter. It would have been easier to kill you had remained young and foolish, but it shall be so much sweeter to kill you now that you have gained some wisdom."

Voldemort rose without seeming to move a muscle. It was as though he was hinged at the heels, pivoting upright without changing his pose in any way in much the same way as a cobra rearing up to strike its foe. Harry had just enough time to wonder if Voldemort had used a levitation charm before the Dark wizard smirked and Harry's scar seemed to explode.

He staggered backwards, bent almost double with the pain. The world around him dimmed as darkness grew around its edges. Harry struggled to look up, wanting to see Voldemort cast what would surely only need to be a single spell to finish him off.

_Pain wor..._

_Worse than..._

_Than..._

_Than..._

_Cru..._

_C..._

The darkness enveloped Harry's senses. The last thing he was aware of was his body hitting the ground.

* * *

Ron was used to fighting against the odds. He had, after all, grown up with five older brothers, and the frequent scuffles among the Weasley boys had often degenerated into one brother being the target of all the others, whether it were Bill, Ron, or any of those in between.

_Even Percy had his share of fights._

But those had been honest, everyday brawls between brothers, quickly started and more quickly forgotten. Ron had never fought with his hands tied behind his back. He had never been piled upon by eight larger, older opponents. He had never had to worry about being killed if he lost.

_Apart from that time me and the twins burned Percy's Potions essay by mistake._

He had managed to shunt one of the Death Eaters into the tunnel wall, stunning the older man and incapacitating him.

_Seven left, then..._

Ron fought valiantly, and tried to cheat as much as possible. In this, being able to lash out at anything helped him immensely. He was alone and had no allies to worry about. The Death Eaters he faced were at least trying to avoid hitting each other, although a small part of Ron's brain noticed that they weren't too bothered if they did so.

Ron was lashing out at everything, and managing to land some choice blows. But he was tired and groggy, the swim in pursuit of Hermione had left him weak and sore. He had been swept down a long, dark tunnel and had lost sight of her until they were swept out into thin air thirty feet above the surface of a rapidly growing underground lake. He had hit the surface hard, the breath knocked out of him by the impact, and it had been several seconds before he could orient himself enough to find Hermione.

When he did, he pulled her frantically to the surface and dragged her to the bank of the lake. He'd had just enough time to ascertain that she was alive before being jumped by the Death Eaters.

_And now they've jumped me again. Bloody hell..._

Ron struggled valiantly, but it wasn't enough. He collapsed under a flurry of blows as the Death Eaters managed to organise themselves enough to beat him down.

After he was down - and the Death Eaters took the chance to kick him a few times - they hauled him upright. They untied his arms, and two of them took an arm each. They propped him up against the wall, his arms spread out with one Death Eater holding either wrist. He wondered muzzily what was going to happen until the other five Death Eaters lined up in an unmistakable fashion.

_Firing squad._

He didn't wince. He wanted to look death in the eye if it was coming. He was sorry that we was going to die, was sorry that he wouldn't have one last chance to talk to Hermione, but he was a Gryffindor.

_And when the time comes then we die bravely. Simple as that._

"On three," one member of the firing squad growled. Ron noticed that the two men who were holding his wrists backed as far away as they could, obviously not wanting to be caught in the backlash of five killing curses.

"One.

"Two.

"Th-"

There was a loud, dull thumping noise, and the counting man collapsed limply to the floor. Hermione appeared from behind him, looking as unsteady as Ron did and holding a heavy looking rock.

"Duck!" Ron yelled, but all Hermione managed was to glance up at him enquiringly. Ron cursed loudly as the four conscious Death Eaters quickly overcame her.

A few moments later, Hermione was pinned to the wall in the same way as Ron, a Death Eater at each wrist. A Death Eater stood in front of each of the teenagers. The one in front of Ron sneered.

"It's more personal this way," he said. "One killing curse each. I know you'll appreciate the care and attention."

_Exactly how I wanted to end my life; at the hands of a comedian._

"Kill us and be done with it," Ron spat. "I don't reckon you want your boss coming around the corner and seeing you playing with the prisoners. I reckon he'd want to do the killing himself."

"No, he'd offer you a chance to join us. I suppose we can do that too. Interested? Of course, you'd have to prove your loyalty by, say, killing your Mudblood girlfriend."

Ron glared at the man and told him to do something that would generally only be anatomically possible with the thinner end of a wizard's wand.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. Probably just as well. I know your family of old, Weasley. Disgrace to purebloods everywhere, you are."

Ron looked closer at the man, but couldn't place him. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and as far as Ron knew, he'd never seen him before in his life.

"He doesn't care about all that pureblood rubbish," Ron said suddenly.

"What?"

"Your boss. He's a halfblood. Didn't know that, did you?"

"Shut up." The Death Eater was furious.

_Great. I pissed off the man who's going to kill me. Wonderful. Good job, Ron. If Hermione were awake, I bet she could talk us out of it, but she isn't so it's my job. Merlin help us all..._

"Well, he is. His name's Tom Riddle. His mum was a witch, his dad was a Muggle. Didn't he ever tell you that?"

"I said shut up!"

"I guess not," Ron said. "Well, something to bring up next time you chat to him."

The Death Eater offered another sneer, but this one didn't seem to have the passion of his earlier effort.

_I guess that's something,_ Ron thought as the two executioners took their positions.

"Sorry, Hermione," he whispered as the two men pointed their wands at them.

_I didn't even get to use Excalibur..._

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open. The first thing he saw was Voldemort standing over him, wand poised and ready to deliver a spell at his prone form.

The first thing he thought was: _No pain._

He twisted on the ground, catching Voldemort's legs between his own and throwing the Dark wizard off balance. He rolled and pushed himself up onto all fours. Looking up, he caught sight of Ginny looking over the rock she was sheltering behind. She gave him a shaky thumbs-up before dropping back down, and Harry guessed that she had opened her end of the link once more. Dumbledore, it seemed was right. Harry and Ginny's bond did seem to disrupt the link that Harry shared with Voldemort.

Thinking of Ginny made an image of Dean flash into Harry's mind. He got his feet under him and rose smoothly, his wand outstretched in one hand.

"_Gladius!_" he yelled.

Godric Gryffindor's sword took shape in his hand, the tip of the blade cutting through Voldemort's robes and deep into his arm, making the Dark wizard hiss in pain as he rose. Harry brought the sword up and around and glared at Voldemort.

Voldemort, for his part, simply stared at the wound on his arm. To Harry's disbelief, it was already healing. Even as Harry watched, the wound completely disappeared, leaving only a thin white line visible on Voldemort's pale skin.

"And you thought it would be easy, Potter," Voldemort sneered. "You have your pretty sword and your clever trick, but no weapon forged by mortal man can take my life, Potter, not even a magical weapon such as yours. Still, as you wish to duel... _Gladius!_"

Voldemort's wand turned into the short knife that Harry had seen in his dream months before.

"Maybe before you die, I'll put the Dark Mark on you and make sure everyone knows that you fell at the hands of the greatest wizard who has ever walked this earth."

"You don't walk, Tom. You slither," Harry said.

"Word games will avail you nothing," Voldemort said. "It is you and I now, Potter. As it was always meant to be. You will not be protected by the brother wand effect this time. Our swords will act as normal, and I assure you that I am a very skilled swordsman."

"I learnt from the best," Harry said, glancing up at the watching Death Eaters and smiling again. "You don't have a chance, Tom."

"We will never know unless we fight," Voldemort hissed.

"Agreed," Harry said, darting forward on the last syllable and swinging at Voldemort.

Their blades met exactly halfway between them. Harry's sword was nearly jolted from his hands by the impact and he immediately knew that Voldemort had been wrong about the brother wand effect. Both his and Dumbledore's wands had cores made from the tailfeathers of Fawkes the phoenix, which made them unstable when forced to fight one another. It seemed that this effect extended to the Gladius form of their wands as well.

_It's a challenge,_ Harry thought grimly. _Good job Dean taught me how to cheat_.

Harry and Voldemort paced through a quarter circle, keeping the tips of their blades aimed at one another's throats. It was Harry who lunged first, but Voldemort was only a hair's breadth behind. The blades clashed with a mighty reverberation that nearly threw Harry off his feet. He could tell that Voldemort was barely more stable.

"Seems like you were wrong," Harry said.

"You are a thorn in my side, Potter. I will take delight in killing you."

"Also seems like I've heard that before. Have you ever sat through Professor Binns' History of Magic class? You won't bore me to death, believe me. I've had experts training me against that."

Voldemort scowled, or at least the skin above his eyes puckered together. Harry was surprised to realise how difficult it was to interpret a motion like that, given that Voldemort had no eyebrows to frown with.

"Look around you, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "There is nowhere to hide. Your young friend has the only shelter in this cavern and wherever you go my Death Eaters can hex you in a moment. It is only a matter of time before I kill you, and you may rest assured that I will do it with magic, not with words."

Harry's eyes flickered upwards once more. He smiled grimly at Voldemort.

"Come on then, old man," he said. "What are you now, seventy?"

"Age is no barrier to one who has already defeated death," Voldemort said, lashing out at Harry.

Harry hadn't been prepared for the attack. Ducking outside the range of Voldemort's knife, he had momentarily forgotten that the wand could still be used to cast spells. Thus it was that Voldemort's Stunning spell caught him almost entirely unprepared, battering past the still-forming Shield spell that Harry had cast upon seeing the glow of Voldemort's wand. The Shield dissipated the effects, but Harry still had the breath knocked out of him and dropped to one knee for a second. Voldemort came at him, knife whirling around his head as he prepared for a downward strike that would have cut deep into Harry's skull.

Harry threw himself backwards, landing hard on his back but avoiding Voldemort's knife for a few seconds. He kicked up, catching Voldemort's hand but feeling the tip of the knife dig into his shin. Harry winced, but it seemed to be a largely superficial wound, and not one that would cause him too much trouble.

"_Incendio__!_"

The line of flame erupted from Voldemort's knife and brushed against Harry's chest. He froze in horror as he felt the flame seize the material of his robes and quickly rolled over to try and smother the flames. Barely had he landed on his chest before he was moving again, forcing himself upright and bringing his sword around to meet a stab from Voldemort that would have entered Harry's back and pierced a lung if Harry had not moved.

"I am better, Potter," the Dark wizard smiled. "Surrender now and your passing will be quick."

"But if I keep fighting then you might lose," Harry said. "Besides, Gryffindors don't give up."

"Foolish child. The truly intelligent know when to temper bravery with sense."

"Ah, well, that's not me. Always been bravery first, thoughts second," Harry said, breathing heavily. The flames had exposed the bare flesh of his chest and a sharp smell of cooked meat suggested that at least part of him had been burnt. Still, the wound did not hurt as much as Harry thought that it should, and he realised that the link to Ginny was still open and apparently working on physical injuries as well as Voldemort's mental attacks.

Harry winced. He wasn't happy about Ginny being exposed to his pain, but he didn't have a great deal of choice. As it was, he added the pain to the long list of other injuries received that day and wondered exactly what Madam Pomfrey would say to him if he survived to make it back to the hospital wing.

The laugh that resulted from this seemed to perplex Voldemort, who paused in his approach.

"Laughing in the face of death, Potter? Perhaps you are merely insane, rather than courageous."

"Well, I see things, hear strange voices and I've chosen to attack one of the most evil wizards who ever lived," Harry said. "I probably am insane. A bit like you, Tom."

Harry attacked again. He brought his blade in low and Voldemort moved to block it, but at the last second, Harry flicked the sword upwards and it slashed across Voldemort's face. The Dark wizard staggered backwards, one pale, boney hand clutched to the wound. Harry knew that it would only be seconds before the gash was healed, and threw himself forward to press the momentary advantage.

He swung viciously, a hard, heavy overhead swing that was destined to crash into Voldemort's skull-like head. Voldemort managed to block the swing, but Harry kicked out, planting his foot deep into Voldemort's chest and sending the other wizard staggering back. Harry darted forward, keeping minimal distance between them and slashed twice, quickly. One shot bounced off Voldemort's knife, but the other caught the wizard across his shin. He hobbled backwards, but stood upright, his hand coming away from his face and revealing that that wound had healed as quickly as the one to his arm.

"You can't win," he hissed, slipping into Parseltongue. "Give up, Potter."

"You keep saying that," Harry replied. "I'm still here. If I can't win, I'm doing a good job of losing."

Voldemort started to laugh.

"I haven't even _begun_," he hissed. "You are nothing but a fly, Potter. Annoying and inconsequential. Witness now the power of Lord Voldemort."

The knife disappeared from Voldemort's hand in a puff of steam and for a second Harry was moving forwards. Then Voldemort hissed an incantation and the earth around Harry erupted. He was thrown off his feet, suddenly engulfed in a whirlwind of sand and dirt. He gasped as he felt the grains sand slash across his burnt chest and coughed as his mouth filled with dirt.

Suddenly, the whirlwind died down and Harry could see Voldemort regarding him as Snape regarded a failed student attempt at a Sleeping Draught.

"Pathetic," he sneered. "Try this, Potter."

The earth rose up again, this time in a single column the thickness of a tree trunk. It caught Harry under the chin, sending him sprawling to the ground and nearly rendering him unconscious. Voldemort advanced on his fallen opponent, stopping only as Harry raised his sword and laid the tip against the Dark wizard's stomach.

"And still you keep fighting," Voldemort sneered. "Why, Potter? I can beat you until you die. You are already badly wounded."

Harry took stock of his injuries. He had been cut and beaten by Voldemort, pounded by the impromptu swim in the river, burnt and been placed under the Cruciatus curse. Despite all this, as he looked up at Voldemort, he smiled as much as he was able to. He rather thought that he'd lost a tooth at some point.

"Why do I fight?" he asked. "Do you honestly not know? I'm fighting for my friends, Tom. The people I care about, and who care about me."

"The people who've abandoned you to your death, Potter. How very sad, Potter, dying all alone. At least your parents had each other."

"I'm not alone," Harry said, his grin widening.

"Of course. I forgot," Voldemort said. He turned away from Harry and glided across to the rock that was shielding Ginny. Reaching down, he plucked her effortlessly into the air. Harry's mouth ran dry as he looked at her hanging limply in Voldemort's arms.

_Not Ginny, please not Ginny. Oh, don't be dead, please don't be dead._

Even as he thought it, he knew that she was still alive, although apparently unconscious.

"My last gift to you, Potter," Voldemort said, returning to stand over Harry and dropping Ginny beside him. "You may have someone with you when you die. Although you have only lived so long by my mistake, you have proved a mildly diverting opponent. Of course, your death was inevitable, but it has been somewhat intriguing to see how it would come about."

Harry looked up from Ginny who was unconscious but breathing slowly and deeply.

"I'm not dead yet, Tom. And I didn't mean Ginny when I said that I wasn't alone."

"You _are_ alone, Potter. Just yourself, one unconscious girl and Lord Voldemort."

"Not _quite,_ Tom."

Voldemort raised his eyes from Harry's victorious smirk to the raised walkway above them. Staring down at them, removing Invisibility Cloaks and dropping Invisibility Shrouds and Disillusionment Charms, were members of the Order of the Phoenix. They stood over the fallen bodies of Voldemort's Death Eaters who, it seemed, had been defeated without much in the way of resistance or even much noise. Directly in front of Voldemort stood Albus Dumbledore, smiling benignly.

"It took me a long time to realise," Harry said, although Voldemort wasn't really listening. "My greatest strength isn't my magic, or my brains or anything like that. It's that I have people I can turn to, friends and allies, and that gives me a big advantage over you, Tom."

Dumbledore stepped off the walkway and dropped gently to the ground, his wand pointed directly downwards. He approached Harry, Ginny and Voldemort calmly.

"Greetings Tom," he said to Voldemort in a cheery voice. "What has it been, twenty years? I think it's time we put an end to this, don't you?"

* * *

The executioners didn't even get past the 'A' of 'Avada Kedavra' when there was a pair of dull thuds and they crumpled to the ground. This was swiftly followed by a loud yelling as four bolts of light crashed into the Death Eaters holding Ron and Hermione captive.

Ron looked around in bewilderment and then felt his knees buckle beneath him. Strong hands seized him and Hermione as they toppled forwards and Ron looked around in disbelief.

"Bloody hell," he managed.

"You'll watch your language, Ronald Weasley," Molly Weasley replied.

"Mum? Dad? Bloody hell," he repeated as words failed him.

"I don't think that anything is broken, mother," Percy announced.

Ron looked around in disbelief. Almost the entire Weasley family was there: Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins.

"What..."

"Albus called for our help," Arthur said. "Everyone was at home, so we all came."

"Yeah. Mum shouted when Dad suggested she stay at home," Fred grinned.

"So, is this the sort of thing you get up to usually, Ron?" George asked, throwing an appraising look around the tunnel. "Bright, isn't it?"

"Ron, where's Ginny?" Molly asked.

"In there," Ron said, pointing vaguely down the tunnel. "How..."

"Invisibility shroud," Charlie said. "Dead useful for getting close to dragons. Works well on Death Eaters, too, it seems."

"Dumbledore's been drilling us on methods of concealment for months," Bill said. "How are you feeling Ron?"

"Bits of me... don't actually hurt. Much," Ron said. "How's Hermione?"

"Woozy," Fred replied. "Mum, can you stay and watch them? We should go and see where Ginny's got to.

"I'm coming too," Ron said. "She'll be with Harry and he was going after Voldemort."

Every Weasley winced, but Ron was too distracted to care.

Bill ran up the tunnel and peered through the entrance to the cavern beyond.

"Hey, it's alright. Dumbledore's here."

"Nice one. What's he doing?" Charlie asked.

"Talking," Bill replied.

* * *

Voldemort looked at Dumbledore for a moment, and then nodded haughtily.

"It is time that it ends, it is true," he said.

Without another word, he was moving away from Dumbledore towards the pool where Moody and Diggle's blood was mixing with the water. The pool was glowing brightly now, and Harry supposed that the ritual was ready for completion.

Dumbledore didn't even flinch, rather he waved his wand and Voldemort ran straight into what seemed to be an invisible shield. He bounced backwards and fell flat on his back, but rose upwards again as quickly as a striking cobra.

He spun around and threw out his arm, a golden bolt of light spraying from his wand towards Harry and Ginny. Dumbledore moved swiftly in front of his two students and caught the spell on the tip of his wand. There was a rumble as the entire cave seemed to shake, and Dumbledore staggered momentarily, but quickly regained his footing.

"You'll stop me taking the power of Morgan Le Fay, Dumbledore?" Voldemort hissed.

"I would stop anyone taking that power, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, although Harry thought he heard a slight tremble in the headmaster's voice. "Harry, please take Miss Weasley and move away from us. Tom and I will settle this now."

Harry climbed to his feet and scooped Ginny's small frame into his arms. He limped backwards, the wound on his leg making him wince with every step he took. But the sight of Dumbledore watching Voldemort carefully, obviously weighing his next move as carefully as Ron did when playing chess, was one that made Harry glad to be putting distance between himself and the fight.

Dumbledore's next move was not one that Harry would have predicted. He glanced up at a tall black man who seemed to be organising the other members of the Order in tying up the captured Death Eaters.

"Kingsley, please make sure everyone leaves here alive," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Of course, Albus," Kingsley replied in a voice as deep as Dumbledore's own.

Dumbledore and Voldemort sized one another up as Kingsley and the Order cast Levitation Charms on the stunned prisoners. As Harry watched, he saw Remus and Sirius moving among the prisoners, binding their wrists and snapping their wands.

Voldemort and Dumbledore continued to size one another up. To Harry, it seemed as though the air between the two powerful wizards was crackling with energy.

Up above, the Order members had each seized a Death Eater, and were marching them out of the chamber through an archway that Harry guessed would lead them back to the surface. Sirius and his prisoner were the last to leave, and Sirius turned to Harry, waving for him to leave Voldemort and Dumbledore to their contest.

Harry looked around, wondering if there was a path that would take him and Ginny up to Sirius, but there was nothing, only some fallen rubble in one corner that might once have been the path upwards.

"Just go out the way you came in, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I think not," Voldemort said. "The boy can stay and watch, Dumbledore. Certain things need to be seen."

"I will not place an innocent person in danger, Tom."

"It has always been your weakness, old man. Still, I have no such compunction."

Voldemort flung out one skeletal arm, and an orange bolt crackled from his wand, searing across the cavern before hitting the tunnel mouth. A glowing, pulsing field formed across the tunnel mouth. Harry thought that he saw someone moving behind the field, which hissed and sparked threateningly.

Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into something approximating a smile. "Surrender yourself, Dumbledore, and your death will be quick."

"Thank you, Tom, but no. I would prefer to go on living, and bedevil you wherever and whenever I can. Harry, please stand behind me and I will shield you."

"Shield him? Arrogant old fool!"

Harry, Ginny still lying unconscious in his arms, dived behind Dumbledore as Voldemort brought his wand up once more and triggered several spells in a row, all of them unknown to Harry. Dumbledore barely flinched, instead flicking his wand at each of the spells and deflecting them.

Voldemort began to hiss, and Harry realised that he was speaking in Parseltongue. The hisses seemed to be incantations, and Voldemort grew still as the cavern seemed to darken.

Then, suddenly, Voldemort threw out his wand arm and a giant snake sprang from the tip of the wand. Harry strained his eyes in the suddenly dark room, worried that Voldemort had somehow conjured a Basilisk, but the snake seemed to be insubstantial, made of smoke.

"Stay back, Harry," Dumbledore warned. "This appears to be something new."

"Indeed it is," Voldemort said, staggering backwards slightly. "A very new spell, I've only used it once before, and it has been much refined since then. See if you can work out what it does."

The snake rose up, towering over Dumbledore and Harry. It lunged at the white-haired wizard, coiling itself around him, but Dumbledore didn't seem to be scared.

"Very inventive, Tom," he murmured. "Very inventive indeed. Serpensortia I see, and Delayed Effect, and a large number of other spells. This must have taken you a very long time. No wonder you have been so quiet of late."

"It is not often that perfection is achieved," Tom said. "Now, _attack,_" he hissed.

Dumbledore held the snake in his piercing gaze, staring directly into its glowing, opal eyes, but at Voldemort's hissed command, the snake lunged, clamping its smokey jaw down on Dumbledore's arm before evaporating into a cloud of dust.

Dumbledore's eyes grew wide for a second, and Harry realised that the old wizard now had two neat fang marks on the shoulder of his robes. If he looked closer, Harry assumed, he would be able to see blood pouring from the wounds that were surely beneath the holes.

Voldemort let out a short laugh, and turned to the pool, which was glowing still brighter than before and, Harry realised, was the only source of illumination in the room.

Voldemort glided forward. Harry wanted to do something, but he stood frozen on the spot, unable to think of a single spell that would divert Slytherin's heir from taking the power on offer before him.

Dumbledore seemed to have no such problems. He raised his wand with a barely audible huff of breath. He waved his wand at the pool, and the water began to steam and bubble. By the time Voldemort reached the edge of the pool, there was nothing left.

Le Fay's power was gone. The yearlong quest was ended. Voldemort was defeated.

Harry marveled at how simple the solution had been. He looked from the steaming stone pit to Voldemort, who was as still as if he had been Petrified.

Harry half-expected him to scream, or curse, or make some sign of frustration. Instead, he turned and faced Voldemort coolly.

"So, in the end, it is you and I, Dumbledore."

"It is, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly. Any uneasiness he may have felt from Voldemort's attack did not show on his face. He looked calm and capable, and thoroughly in control of the situation.

There was a crack, and suddenly Professor Skeeter was standing next to Dumbledore.

"I want a shot first," she said, glaring at Voldemort, who seemed genuinely perplexed.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Maureen Skeeter, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts," she said calmly.

"Maureen, this is not a good idea," Dumbledore warned her.

"Letting him go after what he did to me is not a good idea," she said. "His Death Eaters destroyed my home. My mother still has nightmares. I'm going to fight him."

"You will lose," Voldemort sneered. "But you are welcome to try."

Skeeter moved before Dumbledore had a chance to react. She charged at Voldemort.

There was a sickening crack as Voldemort swung his wand arm up and met Skeeter's charge with a single spell. She was thrown backwards and crashed to the ground beside Dumbledore in a jerky, broken heap.

"Pathetic," Voldemort said. "But also somewhat satisfying. Is that the best you can do, Dumbledore?"

"No Tom," Dumbledore said, rising from where he had been knelt down, checking on Professor Skeeter. "I doubt that that was even the best that Maureen can do."

Dumbledore drew his wand, a determined look on his face.

"Wait," Voldemort said, holding up one long, pale hand. "You haven't seen _my_ best yet."

So saying, he raised his hands above his head and brought them down sharply. With a harsh laugh, he Disapparated.

There was an ominous rumbling from above.

"Merlin's beard..." Dumbledore muttered. Bending down, he scooped Skeeter gently into his arms.

"Harry, we have to run," he said. "The roof is caving in."

* * *

Harry and Dumbledore, carrying Ginny and Skeeter, dashed for the tunnel through which Harry and Ginny had entered the cavern. The orange shield that Voldemort has blocked the entrance with was gone, but they were by no means free and clear. The first huge chunk of rock crashed to the ground a few inches behind them as they ran, and another several tons worth of ceiling fell and blocked the entrance as they dashed into the tunnel beyond.

"Quickly now, Harry," Dumbledore said.

They began to run down the tunnel, surprising the Weasleys, who were waiting a short way along. There was no time for words. Harry and Dumbledore ran past with their burdens and the Weasleys, hearing the rumbling, fell in behind them.

* * *

A few hours later, the Order of the Phoenix congregated on the hill overlooking the small village. There was a hole in the middle of the village now where Bow Manor had, until that morning, stood.

"Heaven only knows what the Muggles will make of that," Arthur was saying.

"Is there any chance they'll get down to Le Fay's chamber?" Bill asked Dumbledore.

"I doubt it. The secret is safe, and quite beyond anyone's reach. Le Fay used powerful magic to maintain the ritual so long. All it needed was the blood of the enemy and then Voldemort could immerse himself in it. He would have had all of Le Fay's power as well as his own."

"Could he have been stopped, sir?" Percy asked.

"After gaining the power?" Dumbledore asked. "Who can say? Certainly it is better that we do not have to find out. As it is, he managed to Apparate through several hundred feet of magically charged earth and stone without any problems, so it appears that his power is sufficient to be troublesome, to say the least."

Harry, who was lying on the hillside, let his attention wander. He didn't want to think about a Voldemort who was more powerful then they had imagined, even if he wasn't as powerful as they might have feared. He wanted to think about something else. There was a small patch of land on the edge of the village that was ringed with a fence but had no house on it. If Harry squinted - he was far too tired, sore and stiff to conjure a telescope - then he could almost make out the outlines of foundations on the land.

_My old house_, he thought. Sirius had pointed it out to him.

A shadow falling across him interrupted any thoughts this may have lead to. He got up, slowly and stiffly, to greet Ron, who had a guarded expression on his face.

"Ginny's awake. Hermione's looking after her." Ron looked at him, the guarded expression slipping to reveal a rather confused look behind it. "Ginny says you walked in front of a Cruciatus curse for her."

"Well, yeah," Harry said. It wasn't something he could forget very easily. His body was aching all over.

"Why?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at his friend.

_What's the point of lying?_

"I'm not sure," he said, wincing at the skeptical look on Ron's face. "But I think that it might be for the same reason that you'd have done it for Hermione."

Fatigued as he was, Harry didn't even see the blow coming. He simply went from standing to lying in the space of a second, and had an even more sore jaw to boot.

"Then that's for all the crap you've given her," Ron said, glaring down at him. "Any other answer and there'd be more coming your way as well. Do us all a favour and try and fix it, right?"

Ron stalked away. Harry looked back at where his parents' house had once stood.

_Nice to know some things never change._

**The End (Almost)**

**Frantic:** More gore and plenty of action, and now it's over...

**Harry/Ginnyfan4ever:** All questions answered, hmm?

**Silver Warrior:** Sucks it does, but what's a war story without deaths?

**Eric2:** Submersion in the pool - plus a bunch of spells - would have transferred the powers of Morgan Le Fay to the bather. Dumbledore, happily, stopped that from ever occurring.

**GryffRavHuffSlythendor****:** All done now :-)

**dnd4ever:** No more hanging...


	38. Epilogue

**_Epilogue_**

To Ron's great disgust, he, Harry and Hermione were still expected to sit their SKREWTs that week. He grumbled through the entire week, whenever Hermione was out of earshot.

Ginny, for her part, said little about her OWLs and made no complaint about having to sit them so soon after the fight. In fact, she didn't say anything to Harry that week nor the following week, which was the last of term.

Harry wasn't sure exactly what that meant. She had apparently closed off her end of the link again, which was understandable. It was, however, apparently open far enough that they could feel each other somewhat as Harry found himself glancing up at the portrait hole several seconds before she entered, and at other times she was similarly able to anticipate his appearance.

* * *

Draco had reappeared one morning during exams, left unconscious on the steps of Hogwarts. Harry only learned this on the last day of term, when a letter arrived from Sirius and Remus, letting him know that Draco was alive and being monitored by the Order.

_We just don't know if they've done anything to him. He doesn't seem to remember anything after being hit with that spell by Lucius. He might be a spy, he might be innocent, he might be anything._

_But he's alive. And for that we can all be grateful._

Harry privately agreed, tucking the letter into his robes and staring for a moment at the empty spot beside Luna Lovegood at the Ravenclaw table. She seemed to be her usual, slightly eccentric self, and Harry supposed that she knew about Draco being alive.

Although with Luna, it was always difficult to tell.

* * *

Professor Skeeter was confined to the hospital wing upon their return to Hogwarts. Voldemort, with a single curse, had done more damage to her body than Madam Pomfrey said she had ever seen anyone survive before.

Lockhart stayed by her side day and night. Dumbledore arranged for the finest mediwizards to visit her.

By the last day of term, it was announced that she was out of immediate danger, and very slowly improving, although she would have to be moved to St. Mungo's for long term treatment.

As Harry went to say goodbye, she smiled at him in a very wan manner.

"I had my chance, and I didn't do much with it," she said. "Don't make the same mistake, Potter."

Lockhart, who offered the ghost of a smile to Harry, wheeled her out of the hospital wing.

"I'll look after her," he said. "I can read her my books. That should cheer her up."

"They always made us laugh," Harry said absently. The comment was met by a snort of laughter from Skeeter, and a slightly affronted look from Lockhart. Handshakes were exchanged, and Harry walked them down to the gates, the entire time mulling over Skeeter's words.

_Will I have to fight him _again_? Another minute and he'd have killed me. What can I do against that kind of power?_

As he watched, the Knight Bus appeared with a loud _BANG_ and Stan Shunpike hopped down to help Skeeter and Lockhart aboard. Harry reached into his robes and drew his wand, which shone brightly in his hand.

Nearly two months after he had fought the two Death Eaters, there was no noticeable diminishing in the glow. Even dueling Voldemort didn't seem to have drained it.

_I suppose I just have to keep learning,_ Harry thought. _I've got my NEWTs next year. Maybe Auror training after that. Dumbledore says that _he's_ going to face Tom, but everyone else seems to think _I'll_ have to fight him._

He looked up at the castle, where the sun was dipping slowly behind the turrets.

_The least I can do is try my best._

* * *

For Harry, boarding the Hogwarts Express was a genuinely sobering experience. The Order had reassembled the previous evening for a memorial service for Mad-Eye Moody and Dedalus Diggle and he had spent the evening holding a final study session with some third year Ravenclaws who had been bright enough not to question his completely black attire. Ron, who had bonded quickly with Dedalus Diggle despite their brief acquaintanceship, had spent the night throwing hexes at a group of sixth year Hufflepuffs who had had the sense not to ask him what was wrong. He seemed to be better now, although his thoughts had been elsewhere more often than not since the return from Godric's Hollow.

Nonetheless, Harry found himself dreading leaving Hogwarts. For all that the year had been a bad one, Harry didn't want to return to the Dursleys. The most incredible good fortune had snatched him away from them the previous summer, but Harry knew that he couldn't count on the same luck this year.

He settled into a compartment with Ron, Hermione, Seamus and Lavender and watched the world go by. He found himself wondering if the Dursleys had changed at all in the time that he'd been away. He hoped that Dudley hadn't lost weight. If he had, it might be harder to outrun him if he decided to beat Harry up. For all his new skills in self-defence, Harry didn't dare lay a hand on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's 'precious Duddykins'. It was ironic that he could stand face to face with Voldemort, but Dudley still worried him. He slipped into a reverie where he was free to use magic on his fat cousin, and Vernon and Petunia as well.

_Yeah, that would be fun. The sort of thing Tom would do, I imagine._

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry jerked upright to see Hermione looking at him in concern.

"What? Sorry."

"Ron was saying," she said in a tone that suggested she didn't think that what Ron had said was worth repeating, "that he saw Dean and Cho Chang alone in an empty compartment just now."

"Alone? So what?"

"_Kissing_ alone," Ron said grinning.

"Really?" Harry asked, a small light going off in his head. He remembered Dean looking out into the crowd of students during their duel in Defence class weeks before. Now he knew who Dean had been looking at.

"Really," Ron confirmed.

"Excellent," Harry said, genuinely pleased for his friends. "I think they'll be good for each other."

"Weird, though," Seamus said. "Remember he picked her at Truth or Dare last summer?"

"Yeah," Harry said, the memory popping up in his mind. "Funny how things work out."

"Are you going to answer your owl?" Hermione asked.

"What? What owl?"

Lavender giggled. "The owl that's been hooting at you for the last twenty minutes," she said, pointing up at the luggage rack above him.

Harry looked up. One of the school owls peered down at him with a disapproving look on her face.

"Oh," he said. He reached up and took the message from the owl, which took flight immediately. Harry supposed that in twenty minutes the Hogwarts Express would travel a long way, and the owl wasn't very pleased at having to cover that distance by wing. As he unfolded the parchment, the compartment door slid open and Ginny came in and took a seat opposite him. Harry stared at the message for several seconds before he was able to fully focus on it.

_Dear Harry,_ it read.__

_Well done on surviving another year at Hogwarts. Most impressive. I sincerely hope to see you here again on September 1st for your seventh year. In the meantime, as you may be aware, your seventeenth birthday will allow you all the rights of an adult wizard including, I will point out, the right to take - and hopefully pass - your Apparation exam. I hope the enclosed will be of use._

_Best wishes,_

_Albus__ Dumbledore_

Harry looked at the booklet that had been enclosed. It was titled_ Apparating: Twelve Sure Steps to Getting There Without Splinching Yourself (And Twelve More Steps to Make Sure You Get Back Safely.) by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

"Wow," Ron said, reading the letter over Harry's shoulder as Ginny picked up the booklet. "You can come and visit us!"

"Yeah... Hey, Hermione, if I'm an adult at seventeen, can I leave the Dursleys?"

"Well, I suppose so," Hermione said. "But wouldn't Dumbledore want you to stay there?"

"He wouldn't have given Harry this if he wanted him to stay at the Dursleys once he's seventeen," Ginny said, leafing through the booklet. Harry glanced at her, but didn't say anything.

_Is she looking forward to me coming to the Burrow? Why won't she say _something_?_

Harry settled back in his seat. There was only six weeks or so until his birthday, and if he kept himself busy learning the theory of Apparition...

_Won't __Dudley__ be surprised on July 31st?_

* * *

The train pulled into Kings Cross station with a final gasp of steam from the brakes. Harry and the others pulled their trunks down from the luggage rack and joined the queue to re-enter the Muggle world.

"See you in six weeks," Harry said, grinning at Ron.

"Maybe before then," Ron said, grinning back. "I'm already seventeen, remember? I might be over to see you next week."

"I'm sure I'll see you at the Burrow soon," Hermione said. "Make sure you write, though. I want to hear all about your summer."

"There won't be much to tell, but yeah, I will," Harry said. "See you."

Ron and Hermione walked hand-in-hand through the barrier.

"Harry!"

Harry turned to see Dean and Cho coming up to him, holding each other's hands. Cho was blushing in a very pretty way, while Dean looked as though he couldn't believe his luck.

The three of them stared at each other and then grinned. Harry and Dean shared a quick, back-slapping hug and Harry and Cho a slightly less violent one. The new couple passed on into the Muggle world.

Harry hung back, looking through the crowd, smiling and exchanging good-byes with what seemed like half of Hogwarts. He waved to Blaise Zabini, and grinned at Justin Finch-Fletchley and Eloise Midgen as they accompanied Ernie and Hannah through the barrier.

And eventually Harry was alone on the platform.

_She's gone. I missed even saying goodbye to her._

He looked around one more time, but there was no sign of the fiery mane of hair anywhere on the platform. Harry's shoulders sagged.

_I just wanted to say goodbye..._

He trudged through the barrier and into the bright, neon-lit expanse of Kings Cross station. Uncle Vernon stood under the clock. He glared at Harry, not even needing to say that Harry was late. Slowly, dispiritedly, Harry began to make his way across the station towards a long six weeks of nothing but Dursleys.

"Harry?"

He spun around so fast that to Ginny it seemed like there had been no movement involved. One moment, he had been walking away from her. The next, he was facing her, a silly smile on his face.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi. I thought I'd missed you," she said.

"I thought I'd missed _you_," he replied. "I waited on the platform for you, but-

"Oh," she said, giggling. "I was waiting out here."

He smiled, and tried to think of something to say, but nothing sprang easily to mind.

"Well... Bye then," he said, looking down at his shoes.

"Oh, yes. Have a good summer," Ginny replied, looking a little crestfallen.

"Yeah, you too."

They turned away from each other, and then Ginny turned back, a determined look on her face.

"Harry?" she said forcefully.

"Yes?"

"I'm- I'm really looking forward to you coming over later in the summer," she said.

He grinned at her in relief.

"Me too," he said. "I hope we get the chance to, y'know, talk and stuff."

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Still the great elocutionist you've always been," she teased.

He grinned, and nodded. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him softly on his cheek.

"I'll see you soon," she said, before turning and walking back to where the other Weasleys were waiting and trying very hard to make it look as though they hadn't been watching the entire scene.

Harry saw Ron give him a thumbs-up as Ginny joined them, and grinned. He raised a hand to touch the spot where Ginny had kissed him, something he'd only read about other people doing before. He smiled.

_Six weeks. And then, who knows?_

**The End (Really!)**

And that's it.

Sort of.

There will be a follow up to this story, which will cover Harry's seventh year, the final battle between the Order and Voldemort's forces, Draco's allegiance - I couldn't kill him - and a lot more. But...

It won't be out for a while.

Right now I'm working on a post-OotP sixth year story called, provisionally, The Knights Of Walpurgis. I also have a summer fic written up that deals with Harry's seventeenth birthday, the relationship between him and Ginny, Ron's feelings for Hermione and so on. I'll release that around the same time as the new story debuts.

I'd like to take the time to thank everyone who reviewed this story, all 213 (and counting) of you. Special thanks to **Frantic**, who's reviewed pretty much everything I've written, **Aggiebell90**, one of my favourite authors, and **Sherbert79**, for making the apparently colossal effort to review every chapter. Thank you all. Good, bad or indifferent, your opinions on the story have helped me improve, I hope. I hope you'll all be sticking around for all my forthcoming stories as well.

Finally, I do run an update service for my stories. If you want to be informed of when I release and update future stories then you can visit my Yahoo group, the address of which you'll find in my profile.

Thanks for reading!


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